


OLIVER OPTIC’S 


ARMY and NAVY STORIES 


OLIVER OPTIC’S 



RIVERDALE STORIES. 


A Library for Young and Old, in six volumes. 
16)110. Illustrated. Per vol., $1.50. 


Twelve volumes. Profusely illustrated from new 
designs by Billings. In neat box. 

Cloth. Per vol., 45 c. 


Tile Stiilor Hoy, or Jack 
Somers in the Navy. 

Tlio Yn-iilcee YCidcly, or 

Adventures of a Naval Officer. 

HPaY’o 01<1 iSalt, or Life on 
the Quarter Deck. 

Tile Solclier Hoy, or Tom 

Somers in the Army. 

Tlie Yoiiiifv X^ieTitelimit. 

Or Tlie Adventures of an Army Officer. 

Tig'lltillJS' ^Toe, or the Fortunes 
of a Stall Officer. 

“ The writings of Oliver Optic are the most pe¬ 
culiarly fitted for juvenile I’cuders of any works 
now publi.shcd. There is .a fresliness and Vivacity 
about them which i.s very engaging to older I’oad- 
ers. The benefit which a young mind will ob¬ 
tain fi'oin reading the healtliy descriptions, full of 
zest and life, and, withal, coi'itaining a great deal 
of very useful information, is almost incalcula¬ 
ble.”— Toledo Blade. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, P>oston. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S 

MAGAZINE. 

OLIVER OPTIC, Editor. 

Published Monthly. 

Each number containi: 

Part of a NEW STORY, by the Editor. 
STORIES and SKETCHES, by popular 
authors. 

An ORIGINAL DIALOGUE. 

A DECLAMATION. 

PUZZLES, REBUSES, &c. 


Hittle Merchant. 

Yonng "Voyagers. 

Christinas Grift. 

IDolly and I. 

XJnole Ben. 

Birthday Barty. 

Broud and Ijazy. 

Careless Kate. 

Bobinson Crusoe, Jr. 

The Bicnic Barty. 

The <3-old Thimble. 

The Bo-Somethings. 

Anxious mothers who wish to keep their boys 
out of mischief, will do well to keep their hands 
filled with one of the numerous volumes of Oliver 
Optic. They all have a good moral, are full of 
fascinating incidents mingled wdth instruction, 
and teach that straight-forwardness is best.” — 
News. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S 

YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD. 

A Library of Travel and Adventure in Foreign 
Laiids. ICmo. Illustrated by Nast, 
Stevens, Perkins, and others. 

Per volume, $1.50. 

Oxitwarcl Hound., or Young 
America Afloat. 

Slimnroclc Tlilstle, or 

Young America in Ireland and Scotland. 

Bed Ol'OSS, or Young America in 
England and Wales. 

& Hitches, or Young 
America in Holland and Belgium. 


Jill Handsomely Illustrated, 

: Teems: ^3.50 per year; 25 cts. per number. 

Sold Evekywhbrk. 

i BS^llememlier, this lilaffazine 
contains more reacliii" matter 
I than any other juvenile maga- 
I zine published. 

i Specimen copies sent free by mail on appli- 
^ cation. 

0^ LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 

. .. 


Balaee Cottagre, or Young i 
America in F ranee and Switzerland. | 

Hoavit. the Hhiiie, or Young : 
America in Germany. ; I 

“These ore by far the most Instructive books • 1 
written by tliis popular author, and while main- • 1 
taining tliroughout enough of excitement and ad- : 
venture to enchain the interest of the youtliful \ 
reader, thei-e is still a great amount of informa- • 
tion conve 3 ’cd respecting the history, natural tea- : 
tui’cs, and geography of this far-ott' laud, and the : 
peculiarities of the places and iieople which they ; 
contain.” — Gazette. g 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 

-. 


























OLIVER OPTIC’S 


LAKE SHORE SERIES. 

Six VoLS., Illust. Per vol., 1^1.25. 




OLIVER OPTIC’S 

STARRY FLAG SERIES. 

Six Vols., Illust. Per vol., $1.25. 

■ ♦O# 


Throuifh by Daylight ; 

Or, The Young Engineer of the Lake 
Shore Railroad. 

Lightning Express; 

Or, The Rival Academies. 

On Time; 

Or, The Young Captain of the Ucayga 
Steamer. 

Switch Off; 

Or, The War of the Students. 

Brake Up; 

Or, The Young Peacemakers. 

Bear and Forbear; 

Or, The Young Skipper of Lake Ucayga. 

Oliver Optic owes his popularity to a pleasant 
style, and to a ready sympathy with tlie dreams, 
hopes, aspirations, and fancies of the young people 
for whom he writes, lie writes like a wise, over¬ 
grown boy, and his books have therefore a fresh¬ 
ness and raciness rarely attained by his fellow 
scribes. — Christian Advocate. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S 


The Starry Flag; 

Or, The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann. 

Breaking Away; 

Or, The Fortunes of a Student. 

Seek and Find; 

Or, The Adventures of a Smart Boy. 

Freaks of Fortune; 

Or, Flalf Round the World. 

Make or Break ; 

Or, The Rich Man’s Daughter. 

Down the River; 

Or, Buck Bradford and his Tyrants. 

These books are exciting narratives, and full of 
stirring adventures, but the youthful heroes of the 
stories are noble, self-sacrificing, and courageous, 
and the stories contain nothing which will do 
injury to the mind or heart of the youthful reader. 
— Webster Times. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 


OLIVER OPTIC’S 


BOAT CLUB SERIES. 

Six Vols., Illust. Per vol., ^1.25. 

— 

The Boat Club; 

Or, The Bunkers of Rippleton. 

All Aboard; 

Or, Life on the Lake. 

Now or Never; 

Or, the Adventures of Bobby Bright, 


WOODVILLE STORIES. 

Six Vols., Illust. Pcr vol., $1.25. 


Rich and Humble; 

Or, The Mission of Bertha Grant. 

In School and Out; 

Or, the Conquest of Richard Grant. 

Watch and Wait; 

Or, The Young Fugitives. 

Work and Win; 


Try Again; 

Or, The Trials and Triumphs of Harry 
West. 

Poor and Proud; 

Or, The Fortunes of Katy Redbum. 

Little hy Little; 

Or The Cruise of the Flyaway. 


1 Boys and girls have no taste for dry and_ tarne 
1 things; they want something that will stir the 
: blood and warm the heart. Optic always does 
; this, while at the same time he improves the taste 
1 and elevates the moral nature. The corning 
I eration of men will never know how much they 
i are indebted for what is pure and enobling to lus 
^ writings. — It. 1. Schoolmate. 




LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 


Or, Noddy Newman on a Cruise. 

Hope and Have; 

Or, Fanny Grant among the Indians. 

Haste and Waste; 

Or, The Young Pilot of Lake Cham¬ 
plain. 


Oliver Optic is the apostolic successor, at the 
“ Hub.” of Peter Parlev. He has just completed 
the “Woodviile Stories," by the publication ot 
“Haste and Waste.” The best notice to give ol 
them is to mention that a couple of youngsters 
pulled them out of the pile two hours since, and 
are yet devouring tliem out in the summer-liouse 
(albeit autumn leaves cover it) oblivious to RUittin 
time. —A. T. Leader. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 


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The Gentleman who sat orrosiTE. Tage 43 





































































































































































































Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the j’ear 1871, 

By william T. ADAJVIS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



BLEOTEOTYPED Xt THE 


BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY, 
19 Spring Lane. 













FRANK C. FOSTER, 

OF CANANDAIGUA, N. Y., 


gook 

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 


THE UPWAED AND OHWAKD SEEIES. 


1. Field and Forest; or, The Fortunes of a Farmer. 

2. Flane and Planic ; or, The Mishaps of a Mechanic. 

3. FesJc and Debit ; or. The Catastrophes of a Clerk. 

4. Cringle and Cross-Tree ; or. The Sea Swashes 

OF A Sailor. 

5. Divoiiac and Battle ; or. The Struggles of a Soldier. 

IX rREPARATIOX. 

6. Sea and Shore; or. The Tramps of a Traveller. 


PREFACE 


“Bivouac and Battle” is the fifth of the Onward and 
Upward Series, in which Phil Farringford appears as a soldier. 
The events of the story are located in New York, on the Atlan¬ 
tic, in England, and at the seat of war in Italy in 1859. The 
hero continues to be a Christian young man, who labors to 
make his life an upward and onward progress, even while his 
adventures are stirring and exciting; though perhaps it is more 
difficult to be honest, upright, and noble in the dull monotony 
of an uneventful career than in one filled with changing inci¬ 
dents, and checkered with life’s vicissitudes. Whatever hap¬ 
pens to Phil, he is always true to himself, true to his friends, 
and true to his God. 

Larry Grimsby appears at first as a reckless young man, 
addicted to the vices which are unhappily so often embraced by 
the young, especially in large cities. Phil obtains an influence 
over him, by the events of the story, which proves to be ben- 


5 



6 


PREFACE. 


eficial to his friend. The episode of Mr. Fennimore, the bank 
officer, contains the history of too many, in the present genera¬ 
tion, who are tempted to do wrong in the beginning, with the 
intention of making restitution at a future time, but are carried 
away into the vortex of crime, from which they find it impos¬ 
sible to escape. 

The reader will doubtless sympathize with Phil Farringford 
in the happiness of seeing his family united under one roof, in 
peace, joy, and prosperity; and it is hoped that he will not fail 
to observe that this result is achieved by the practice of Chris¬ 
tian principles, which saved his father from intemperance, and 
enabled him to bring his parents together. 

Harrison Square, Boston, 

November 25, 1871. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEK I. 


PAGE 


In which Phil Parringfokd falls in with Larry 

Grimsby. 11 


CHAPTER II. 

In which Phil learns more about Larry Grimsby, 

AND the Train arrives at New York. 24 

CHAPTER III. 

In which Phil completes his Preparations for the 

Voyage, and goes on Board the Steamer. ... 38 

CHAPTER IV. 

In which Phil walks about the Deck, and finds 

ANOTHER Grimsby. 51 

CHAPTER V. 

In WHICH Phil listens to the Defaulter’s Story, and 
becomes better acquainted with Blanche Eenni- 
more. 65 


CHAPTER VI. 


In which Phil has a melancholy Passage across the 

Atlantic. 80 


CHAPTER VII. 

In which . Phil and his Friend visit Grimsby Hall, 

AND ARE present AT A MELANCHOLY OCCASION. . . 94 

(7) 








8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

In which Phil shows that he has a Talent fok keep¬ 
ing STILL, AND Larry becomes a Hero.108 

CHAPTER IX.. 

In which Phil relates the Story the Baronet told, 

AND Larry meets Blanche in the Garden. . . . 122 

CHAPTER X. 

In which Phil and Larry go to London, and Miles 

Grimsby is vert much excited. ..136 

CHAPTER XI. 

In which Phil and Larry make the Acquaintance of 
A Man with a preposterous Hat, and start for 
Italy.150 


CHAPTER XII. 

In which Phil and Larry continue their Journey, 

AND MEET A ErENCH GENERAL OF BRIGADE.163 


CHAPTER XIII. 

In which Phil and Larry become Soldiers, and 

SPEND THEIR FIRST NiGHT IN BlVOUAC.177 


CHAPTER XIV. 

In which Phil and Larry move forward with the 

Army, and decide to visit Milan.191 


CHAPTER XV. 

In which Phil and Larry float down the Canal, and 

ARE DISTURBED BY FrenCH PiCKET GuARDS. 205 

CHAPTER XVI. 

In which Phil and Larky discuss the Situation, and 
FACE A Drum-head Court-martial . 91 q 








CONTENTS. 


9 


CHAPTER XVII. 

In which Phil and Larry are saved from a hard 

« 

Fate by a Movement of the Brigade.233 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

In which Phil and Larry solve a Problem, and the 

Italian makes a bad Move.246 

CHAPTER XIX. 

In which Phil invents and launches an Aquatic Ma¬ 
chine, AND prepares TO CROSS THE TiCINO .2G0 ' 

CHAPTER XX. 

lit 

In which Phil and Larry take Part in the Battle 

OF Magenta, and visit Milan.273 

CHAPTER XXI. 

In which Phil is identified by his Mother, and 

Larry goes to England.286 

CHAPTER XXII. 

In which Phil remonstrates with Larry, who de¬ 
cides to go up in a Balloon.300 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

In which *Phil is very anxious about Larry, who 

HAS A PERILOUS ADVENTURE IN THE BaLLOON. . . . 314 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

In which Phil and Larry visit Grimsby Hall, and 

RETURN TO AMERICA. 









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I 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE; 

OR, 

THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


CHAPTER I. 


IN WHICH PHIL FARRINGFORD FALLS IN WITH LARRY 
GRIMSBY. 


H- 


ELP ! Help I 

uttered these impressive words myself, 
for I felt that my lamp of life was on the point 
of being extinguished. I had struggled till my 
strength was exhausted, and I had lost all hope of 
being able to extricate myself from the perilous 
situation in which I was placed. 

Unfortunately, railroad accidents are too com¬ 
mon in the United States to need a detailed de¬ 
scription. I was on my way from St. Louis to 
New York, intending to embark in a steamer for 
Europe. I was tired of the monotony of the rail¬ 
road train, and only anxious to reach my destina- 

11 



12 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


tion. It was the last day of the long journey, — 
longer then than now, — and late in the evening I 
expected to be in the great city; but our best laid 
calculations often end in defeat and disaster. I 
had bought a book of the boy who frequently 
passed through the train with a bundle of literary 
merchandise. The work was David Copperfield, 
and I was following with intense interest the for¬ 
tunes of the hero, when suddenly I heard a crash¬ 
ing sound under us, as the cars were crossing a 
bridge. The structure had given way, and the 
carriage dropped down into the stream. 

In another instant the passengers were strug¬ 
gling in the water, which, in the part where I was, 
rose nearly to the ceiling thereof. I had so often 
confronted danger and disaster, that I did not 
regard the situation as at all desperate. I stood 
on the seat, and thus elevated my head above the 
water. I had been sitting by a window. It was 
one of the earliest days in May, and the weather 
was remarkably warm. During the hour preceding 
the disaster, I had raised the sash a dozen times ; 
but the fastenings were out of order, and it would 
persist in coming down with a smash as often as I 
adjusted it. I had tried to wedge it up with a roll 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


13 


of paper; but this experiment had failed, and I 
was so much interested in Copperfield, that I 
abandoned further attempts to supply myself with 
fresh air for the moment. 

Stooping down from my standing-position on the 
chair, I raised the window ; but the upper part of 
the aperture was at least a foot under water. I 
h^rd people at work on the roof with axes, cut¬ 
ting a hole through which the passengers might 
make their escape ; but I was afraid the service 
would be rendered too late for some of them. My 
end of the car was sunk deeper than the other in 
the water; but the passengers were crowded 
together in that part, and the door there seemed 
to be obstructed by the debris of the shattered 
carriages in the rear. My impulse, therefore, was 
to effect my exit from the dangerous situation by 
the window nearest to me. 

Having lifted the sash, the way seemed to be 
clear and practicable, as I was a strong and skilful 
swimmer, and was almost as much at home in the 
water as on the land. But that window, which had 
vexed me so much while I was reading, was 
destined to give me more serious trouble than 
before. Holding the sash with my hand, I dropped 


14 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


my head quickly under the surface of the water, 
thrust it through the open window, and crowded 
my body after it. Of course, in doing this I was 
obliged to release my hold of the sash. Springing 
for the surface of the water outside of the car, I 
believed my individual trials nearly at an end. 
Unluckily, the sash was loose enough to fall by its 
own weight even in the water, and in spite of the 
swelling of the wood-work, which it must have 
caused. It dropped upon my legs, and shut down 
tightly upon my ankles in such a way that I 
found it quite impossible to release them from 
its grip. 

In vain I twisted my body, squirmed, and strug¬ 
gled. The sash seemed to be wedged immovably 
upon my legs. The end of the car also appeared 
to be sinking deeper in the water, and with my 
utmost efforts I could on]y occasionally get my 
head to the surface of the river for a breath of air. 
I felt that my last moment on earth had come, and 
having shouted for help, I commended my soul to 
God, and prayed for my fatlier and mother, that 
they might be reunited, in a single phrase. The 
men who were cutting the hole in the top of the 
car did not seem to see me; but after I had cried 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


15 


for assistance, I was conscious that some one 
came to the edge of the roof, near me. I strug¬ 
gled again. 

What's the matter ?" was the question that 
hardly penetrated my semi-conscious brain. 

I could make no reply; I could only gasp, as I 
succeeded for an instant in getting my mouth to 
the surface again. 

“ Help I Help I" 

My friend on the top dropped into the water. 
I felt his hand upon my legs, but it was still some 
time before he succeeded in releasing me, for he 
was obliged to operate under the surface of the 
stream. He worked my deliverance at last, and I 
rose into the free air of heaven. My strength was 
all gone; I had not even enough left to climb to 
the roof of the carriage ; and I should certainly 
have sunk and perished if my deliverer had not 
grasped me with his strong arm, and dragged me 
upon the top of the car. The end which had been 
the scene of my struggles was now partially sub¬ 
merged ; but I sat down near the verge of the 
water, to recover my exhausted energies. 

By this time the axe-men had made a hole large 
enough to permit the passage of the unfortunate 


16 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


passengers beneath me. My strength came back 
to me in a few moments, and I walked to the 
shore. I had the consolation of seeing and know¬ 
ing, that if I had remained in the car, as my com¬ 
panions had done, I should have been saved with¬ 
out a struggle for myself. Happily, in this instance 
not a single passenger was killed, though several 
were more or less injured. A poor brakeman was 
instantly deprived of life by being crushed in the 
falling train. As soon as I recovered my powers 
of mind and body, I began to look about me with 
interest for the brave and unselfish fellow who 
had saved my life. He had accomplished it at no 
little peril and efibrt, and my gratitude for my 
preservation was unbounded. I thanked God 
with all my heart for his goodness to me, for I felt 
that I owed my safety first to him, and next to my 
gallant friend. I discovered him still busy in his 
wet garments, rendering assistance to the injured 
and terrified ^ passengers. As I was now com¬ 
pletely restored, I felt able to do something my¬ 
self. I worked for half an hour, till we had done 
everything within our means for the comfort of 
the injured. 

The forward part of the train, including the 


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Laury Grimsby gives Phil a Lift. Page 15. 































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


17 


baggage and two passenger cars, had crossed the 
bridge in safety,, while two more had fallen 
through the broken timbers. One of these was 
almost a total wreck, and was now half under 
water, while the other rested half on the bridge 
and half in the stream. 

I went to the baggage car, and found my trunk, 
from which I took a change of clothing, and put 
it on in the smoking-car saloon. The conductor 
had sent the engine and tender forward to the 
next considerable station for assistance, and in 
due time it returned with a large gang of men 
and several cars. Another train was soon made 
np after its arrival, and in three hours from the 
accident we were again on our way to New York. 
As soon as the cars started. I sought again for my 
deliverer, whose labors were now ended. I did 
not find him at first, but I walked through the 
train till I discovered him, seated alone in front 
of one who had been injured by the calamity, 
whom he seemed to have in charge. 

My friend, I owe you a debt of gratitude 
wliich I shall never be able to discharge,” I 
began. ' 

“ You ? Ton my word, I don’t know that I 


18 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE; OB 


ever saw you before in my life;” replied he; open¬ 
ing his eyes, and looking at me all over. 

Indeed ! Don’t you remember that you 
rescued me at the car window, when I was com¬ 
pletely used up?” 

0; are you the individual ? No, you are not; 
he was dressed in light clothes.” 

But I was wet and uncomfortable, and I 
changed my dress.” 

^‘That’s it! Well, you look like the fellow I 
helped out. By the way, that was an odd kind of 
a scrape you got into.” 

^nt was, indeed ; and without your help, I 
should not have been among the living at this 
moment.” 

“ So ? ” said he, with a smile. 

“ I speak only the literal truth. I assure you 
my heart is full of gratitude to you for your noble 
efforts in m}^ behalf.” 

0, never mind that. A fellow can’t help doing 
what he can for one that needs his assistance in 
such a scrape as that. This is the third time in 
five years I have been smashed on a railroad train, 
and never had a hair of my head damaged. ’Pon 
my word. I’m getting used to such things, and if 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


19 


1 have many more, I shall learn to enjoy the ex¬ 
citement of them. Going to New York?’’ 

Yes, sir.” 

So am I.” 

Then I hope I shall see more of you, and be 
able to express my gratitude to you, at least, if I 
am not permitted to do anything more.” 

“ Never mind that, Mr. Jones ; don’t say another 
word about it. I hate gratitude; and if you had 
saved my life, I don’t believe I should feel a bit 
of gratitude.” 

“ However you may feel, I am certainly very 
grateful to you, and I shall never forget, or cease 
to appreciate, your service to me.” 

“ Don’t do it, Mr. Jones. As a special favor to 
me, forget all about it, and cease at once to ap¬ 
preciate, and all that sort of thing.” 

1 cannot be so heartless, my friend.” 

“Try, Mr. Jones; try. I hate to place any one 
under obligations to.me.” 

“ I certainly will not burden you with the ex¬ 
pression of my gratitude, since it is offensive to 
you ; but I cannot help feeling it.” 

“All right, Mr. Jones; I don’t 'care what 
you feel, if you don’t compel me to feel it, too,” 


20 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


laughed he. You seem to be a good fellow, Mr. 
Jones.’’ 

My name is Farringford.” 

‘‘ Excuse me, Mr. Farringford, for 1 have a liabit 
of calling everybody Jones when I don’t know his 
name. Fm not a Yankee; but 1 have a liabit of 
asking questions. I dare say Farringford is not 
all your name.” 

“ Not quite. My first name is Philip; but my 
intimate friends usually call me Phil.” 

That’s a capital name ; and as T claim to be 
your intimate friend, I shall take the liberty to call 
you Phil, for I can’t afford to utter anybody’s name 
when it consists of three s^dlables. 1 can get off 
two very well, but I always break down on three. 
My name is Lawrence Grimsbjq but everybody 
that knows me calls me Larry; and you will oblige 
me by adopting the custom of rny intimates. 
Larry, at your service. What’s this ? ” asked he, 
as the train began to break up. 

It was an important station, and our car stopped 
directly before the refreshment saloon. Larry rose 
in his seat, and looked out at the window. 

^‘That’s a refreshment saloon,” said he. 

Yes ; there is the sign.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOI.DIER. 


21 


Phil, you^-e evidently a good fellow/^ he 
added, looking at me, though I could perceive a 
peculiar embarrassment in his manner. 

I try to do my duty to myself and my friends, 

I replied. 

“ I thought so. I shall do you the honor to let 
you pay for a light lunch for me. I’m hungr}^, 
and I’m dead broke — two things as consistent 
with each other as they are annoying and uncom¬ 
fortable to me.” 

Certainly, my dear Larry — ” 

‘‘ Hold on, Phil ! Don’t you go to dearing me ; 

I won’t stand it; and if you do so, ’pon my word I 
won’t let you disburse a red cent for me.” 

Come along, Larry. You shall have your own 
will in everything,” I answered, leading the way 
out of the car, and into the refreshment saloon. 

His humor was so peculiar that I dared not say 
anything more to give vent to my feelings. I was 
absolutely shocked when he said he was hungry, 
and had no money. My heart swelled with emo¬ 
tion, and even my eyes were disposed to shed a 
few tears; for it was really horrible to think of 
my deliverer being actually hungry. I would' 
have given him my purse at once, and I was 


22 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

burning to pour out my gratitude in words, but I 
dared not do either. It was the middle of the 
afternoon, and I had dined about two o’clock, so 
that I was not hungry myself. Probably for the 
want of funds he had not dined at all, or he could 
not have been in his present condition in a couple 
of hours. Pie ate oysters, hard-boiled eggs, cold 
ham, pies and cakes, like one who had not tasted 
food for twenty-four hours. 

‘‘ Don’t be alarmed, Phil,” said he, as he con¬ 
tinued his meal with unabated relish. 

I am not alarmed,” I replied, as I took a piece 
of cake, rather for the sociability of eating with 
him than because I wanted it. “ Help yourself, 
and be entirely at home.” 

“ I hope your funds are in good condition, 
Phil,” laughed he. 

In very good condition, indeed.” 

‘‘ I’m an odd stick, Phil, and don’t eat every 
day in the week.” 

You don’t! ” 

“ Of course not. It would be a waste of time ; 
but when I do eat, I make a business of it, for I 
may not think it worth while to do this thing 
again for a day or two.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


23 


“ Why not ? ” 

Because it doesn’t pay to keep eating all the 
time. Your jolly old philosopher, Dr. Franklin, 
got up a calculation of the vast quantity of grub 
that a useless fellow consumes; but he didn’t 
figure up the time that is wasted in dining-rooms 
and refreshment saloons.” 

“ I don’t think the people of this country waste 
any time at their meals.” 

A very just observation, Phil. Possibly, if I 
always found a dollar in my pocket when I put 
my hand into it, I might alter my views,” added 
Larry, with a sickly smile, as the bell rang for the 
train to start. That means you and me. I’ve 
eaten all I want. Humph ! I may not do it again 
for a week.” 

I paid the bill, which amounted to one dollar 
and forty cents, with a pleasure I cannot express, 
and we took our seats in the train again. 


24 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER II. 

IN WHICH PHIL LEARNS MORE ABOUT LARRY GRIMSBY, 
AND THE TRAIN ARRIVES AT NEW YORK. 

I HAVE introduced the railroad accident, wliicli 
is too common an event to be a novelty, in 
order solely to present Larry Grimsby to my 
friends. I am sure, if I had met him under any 
other circumstances, 1 should not have thougdit of 
making his acquaintance. He was a young man 
of eighteen or nineteen, which was about my own 
age. Physically he was well formed, and his face 
was rather a good-looking one ; but here, to a casual 
observer of my own tastes and habits, his attrac¬ 
tions would have ceased. He wms well dressed, 
but his appearance was rather flashy. His pants 
were of light material, with an enormous plaid 
upon them. His vest was marked with an absurd 
perpendicular stripe, and his coat was of light 
green, cut in the jauntiest style of the time. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


25 


Although, under other circumstances, he was 
not a person whose acquaintance 1 should have 
sought, I realized that he was a noble fellow at 
heart. If there had been no railroad accident, I 
might have despised him as long as I remembered 
him, for the “ cut of his jib prejudiced me against 
him. For a young man, he was a very eccentric 
.one. While he objected to any expression of 
gratitude on my part, he did not hesitate to ask 
me to pay for his lunch. Independent of the 
priceless service he had rendered me, I confess 
that I felt a deep interest in him. He acknowl¬ 
edged that he had not even money enough to pay 
for his dinner, and, after his fashion, had declared 
that he did not expect to have another meal for a 
day or two. I looked at him, and tried to make 
up my mind what he was; but he was a problem 
to me, and I could not fathom him. 

I feel better, Phil,’^ said he, as we resumed our 
seats in the car. 

I should think you would, if you had not been 
to dinner,’’ I replied, hoping to draw him out. 

I certainly had not been to dinner, and hardly 
to breakfast. I haven’t even one cent of money, 
or anything that I can turn into money. I sold 


26 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


my watch in Buffalo to obtain the means to pay 
my fare to New York.” 

Bat yon have friends?^' 

Certainly I have ; and you are one of them.’' 

I mean relatives.” 

‘‘ Humph ! Not that I am aware of,” he replied, 
lightly. 

Where do you belong ? ” 

I belong here.” 

You have a home somewhere, I mean.” 

A home ! ” exclaimed he, with a laugh. 
‘‘What’s that?” 

“ Of course you know what a home is.” 

“ Can’t say I do, Phil.” 

“ Did you never have a home ? ” 

“ Never a home ; of late years, at least.” 

“Have you no father and mother?” I asked, 
my interest in the young man increasing every 
moment. 

“ Never saw or heard of any such individuals.” 

“ My dear fellow — ” 

“Hold on, Phil; I don’t want any one sym¬ 
pathizing with me. I don’t need it. I never 
had any father or mother, so far as I know, nor 
a relative, nor any other person who cared a fig 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


27 


for me, and 1 don^t know but I have been the 
gainer by it.” 

I think not,” I replied, shaking my head. 

Perhaps you know better than I.” 

“ It is reasonable that a young man should be 
the better for a mother’s influence and a father’s 
care. One’s parents usually teach him the waj^s 
of morality and truth, give him his religious 
impressions — ” 

I don’t believe in any of those things, and 
don’t trouble my head at all about them.” 

You shock me.” 

Do I ? ” laughed he. 

You do, indeed. Don’t you believe in re¬ 
ligion ? ” 

I believe there is such a thing, but it don’t 
trouble me, and I don’t trouble religion. 1 do 
about what is right when it is convenient.” 

I am sure you would think more of religion, 
and that you would desire to do wdiat is right, 
even when it is not wholly convenient, if you had 
had a good mother to teach you the way of life 
and truth.” 

Don’t preach, Phil; it’s worse than gratitude and 
sympathy. I’m not a perfect young man, I know.” 


28 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Where were you born, Larry ? 

1 don’t know; I haven’t the least idea.” 

“ But you had a beginning somewhere.” 

I was a graduate from an orphan asylum when 
I was eight years old. An old lady saw me there, 
and thought I was a pretty boy; so she took me 
home with her. She gave me a very good educa¬ 
tion, and I staid with her till 1 was fourteen years 
old. She always used me well, and taught me 
piety, catechism, and religion, which I got rid of 
as soon as possible. I supposed the old lady, who 
had plenty of money, w’ould leave me her fortune; 
but she didn’t do it; and since that I have been a 
sceptic on the subject of gratitude. I had allowed 
her to spend her money on me, in feeding, cloth¬ 
ing, and educating me, and then she was so cruel 
as to die without making a will in my favor, or of 
anybody else, for that matter. As soon as the 
breath had left her body, about a dozen and a half 
of nephews and nieces stepped in, and in due time 
her money was equally divided among them. Not 
a penny gladdened the interior of my purse.” 

Perhaps she intended to do something for 
you.” 

“ I think she did; and the ingratitude was in 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


29 


the neglect to do it. She died suddenly, and 
never knew a thing after she was taken sick, so 
that my wheels were blocked. Not one of the 
nieces and nephews even looked at me ; and when 
the old lady^s house was sold, I was turned out 
into the street. Since then I have been a wander¬ 
er on the face of the footstool.” 

But what did you do with yourself?” I asked. 

‘‘ I found a place to work in a store; but I didn’t 
like it, and then 1 learned tlie printing business. 
I work as a jour printer now, when I work at all. I 
have been cruising about the west for the last year. 
I work a while in one place, and then move on 
to another. 1 subbed a while in Buffalo, and then 
got cut of a job, and had to sell my watch, as I 
said, to enable, me to get to New York.” 

“ Don’t you know anything about your parents? ” 

“ Not a thing; and I haven’t the least idea how 
T happened to be in the orphan asylum. To tell 
the truth, Phil, I don’t care a fig, either. If my 
parents didn’t want me, I’m sure I don’t want 
them. If I could know who they were for the 
asking, I wouldn’t open my mouth. That’s so, 
Phil.” 

‘‘You are a strange being, Larry.” • 


30 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I know it; and I would just as lief live as die.’^ 

So would 1.’^ 

“ Well, put it the other way ; I had just as lief 
die as live. I don’t know that I care a straw for 
anything in this w^orld — or any other, for that 
matter,” laughed he. Who are you, Phil ? ” 

I answered this blunt inquiry, though it re¬ 
quired a couple of hours to satisfy his curiosity, for 
he questioned me very closely. I told him that I 
had been brought up in a cabin on the Upper 
Missouri, where I had only a rough backwoodsman 
for a companion for several years; that I had 
found my father in St. Louis, who had separated 
from my mother, and that I intended to visit 
Europe in order to find her if possible. He 
drew out of me all the particulars of my eventful 
history. 

“ Then you are as rich as mud, Phil.” 

Not very rich.” 

“ I figure up that you have three or four thou¬ 
sand dollars in your own right.” 

“ That isnT much.” 

Pm nineteen, but I never had fifty dollars in 
my life at one time.” 

I suppose you are not careful of your money.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


31 


“ I’m careful to spend it as soon as I get it. 
That’s what money is for.” 

‘‘ But you can’t have it and spend it too.” 

‘‘ I’m not a miser.” 

Nor I, any more than you. I spend money for 
what I need, and save the rest. In that way I 
gathered my little pile.” 

I took out my purse, which contained twenty- 
two half eagles; for at the time of which I write 
there was no national currency, that was good in 
all the states, and I had changed my money into 
gold before I left the west, for the bank bills of 
one section of the country were subject to a dis¬ 
count in other sections. I turned, the coins out 
into my hand, and Larry watched me with in¬ 
terest. Taking twenty of the half eagles, or one 
hundred dollars, I handed them to him. 

Put them in your pocket,” I added. 

What do you mean ? ” asked he, taking the 
money into his hand. 

Put them in your pocket,” I repeated. “ Possi¬ 
bly, when you get to New York, you will find time 
to eat a dinner or two; and you will need some of 
this coin to pay the bill.” 

Do I understand you to say that you make me 
a present of these shiners ? ” 


V 


32 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

“ Precisely so; that’s just what I mean, if 
you will allow me to state it in that offensive 
manner.” 

“ I thank you with all my heart,” said he, but 
without much emotion.» I never was so rich 
before in my life. You do not state on what 
grounds 3 "ou do this magnificent thing.” 

Simply because you are a good fellow, Larry,” 
I replied, mindful of his instruction in regard to 
gratitude. 

That is all-sufficient ground. By the way, 
Phil, I helped a dozen people after the accident, 
and you are the only one who has offered me a 
cent for my trouble.” 

Why, you would not have them attempt to pay 
you for such service.” 

Certainly not.” 

“ I dare say they are all very grateful to you for 
what you did.” 

I don’t believe they are; and I hope they are 
not. Never mind them. The railroad accident 
was the luckiest tiling that has happened for me 
in the whole course of my life,” continued Larry, 
as he chinked the coins in his hand, and then put 
them in his pocket. “ To what hotel do you go in 
New York, Phil? ” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


33 


“ I thought I should go to the Western Hotel.’^ 

“ That’s not first-class.” 

The prices are not first-class, either,” I added. 

“But you have plenty of money, unless you 
have robbed yourself to enrich a good fellow.” 

“ I have ten or a dozen dollars left,” I replied. 

“ But I will give you back half or all you gave 
me, if you have made yourself short.” 

“No, no; I have a draft for over two thou¬ 
sand dollars to pay my expenses in Europe. 
Don’t trouble yourself about the little matter I 
gave you.” 

“ I won’t,” said he, laughing. “ But I thought 
I should go to the St. Nicholas Hotel, now that I 
have my pile.” 

“ You will have to pay two or three dollars 
a day.” 

“ What of it, when a fellow has a hundred dol¬ 
lars in hard shiners in his trousers pocket?” 

“ You won’t have them, or any of them, long, if 
you do business in that way, Larry. What hotel 
were you going to if you had not met me ? ” 

“To none; I should have gone to ^a cheap 
boarding-house, and then looked out for a job in a 
printing office. But I won’t be odd, Phil. If you^ 
3 


34 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


are going to the Western Hotel, I will go with 
you, though it isn’t first-class.” 

“ I dare say it is quite as good as 3 ’our cheap 
boarding-house would have been,” I replied. 

‘^No doubt of that; but circumstances alter 
cases, and oven change printers’ cases some¬ 
times.” 

“ I hope you will be able to find a place to work 
when you get to New York.” 

Humph ! I don’t know,” he answered, measur¬ 
ing off the words verj" slowly. “ 1 shall not look 
for any place.” 

“ Not look for any! ” I exclaimed. 

No, I think not.” 

Why not? ” 

I have plenty of money in my pocket now,” 
laugli^ he. When it is gone, it will be time 
enough to go to work.” 

“ That’s veiw bad philosophy,” I protested, em¬ 
phatically. 

0, dear, Phil, I’m no philosopher. It would be 
quite impossible for me to go to work with even 
five dollars in my pocket.” 

Then you are a regular vagabond, Larry.” 

Pliil, give me your hand! ” exclaimed he, 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


35 


grasping mine. ^‘You liave hit the nail on the 
head, exactly. I am a regular vagabond.” 

But I would not be a vagabond, nor allow any 
one to call me by such a name.” 

“ I always speak the truth myself when it is 
convenient; and I never object when anybody 
else does so. Here’s a station, Phil, and the 
train is stopping. Let’s get out, and stretch our 
legs.” 

AYe left thb car. It was a large town, and 
the train stopped at the side of a street, on 
which there were hotels, saloons, and stores of 
various kinds. 

Here we are, Phil. That’s just what I was 
looking for.” 

What?” 

“A bar-room. I was going to ask you to pay 
for a glass of brandy for me; but — ” 

“It would have been of no use to ask me, for no 
amount of gratitude, or anything else, could have 
induced me to do such a thing.” 

“ Is that so ? ” 

“ That’s so; most emphatically, decidedly, and 
unalterably so.” 

“You interrupted what I was saying. You ^ 


36 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


have put me in funds, and I was going to treat. 
Come along, Phil. You can take a glass of wine, 
if brandy don’t agree with your constitution.” 

“ Not a drop of anything for me.” 

You are not going to make me drink alone — 
are you ? ” 

Alone if at all, so far as I am concerned,” I 
replied. 

“ Take lemonade then, or some other slops.” 

I will not even enter a bar-room.” 

Ton my word, Phil, I didn’t think so good a 
fellow as you are could be a fanatic.” 

“ I am a fanatic on that subject, and I mean to 
be one to the end of my days.” 

It’s mean to drink alone.” 

Don’t do it then. We will take a cup of coffee, 
if you like.” 

All right; coffee it is, Phil.” 

We drank coffee, and I paid for it. When we 
returned to the train, I laid down my principles in 
detail, illustrating them Avith the sad example of 
my father. Larry onh^ laughed at me for my 
pains. I was sorry to find that the jaunty coat, 
the striped vest, and the plaid pants had not 
belied my new friend. I had the satisfaction of 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


37 


believing that the hundred dollars I had pre¬ 
sented to him would be expended in a few daj^s 
in extravagant living, drinks, and dissipation gen¬ 
erally. I was sorry I had been so liberal; and 
while I was still very grateful to Larry, I was 
almost disgusted with him. 

In the small hours of the morning, four hours 
behind time, the train arrived at New York, and 
we made our way to the Western Hotel. 


38 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER III. 


IN WHICH PHIL COMPI.ETES HIS PREPARATIONS FOR 
THE VOYAGE, AND GOES ON BOARD THE STEAMER. 

WAS grieved and mortified to find that my 



new friend was a young man of no principle, 
a vagabond, and, for aught I knew, a drunkard. 
The great service he had rendered to me kept 
prominent in my mind the nobler attributes of his 
nature; but I could not conceal from myself the 
simple truth that he was a worthless fellow. I 
had talked to him very faithfully, but with no 
result whatever, for he only laughed at me. I do 
not mean to say that I ‘‘ preached ” to Idm, or any¬ 
thing of that sort; but as the events of our in¬ 
timacy brought the topics to our attention, I ex¬ 
pressed my convictions without reserve. 

I could not believe that he was a bad voune: 
man at heart, and I was satisfied that much of his 
eccentricity was mere affectation, as it generally 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


39 


is with everybody. I honestly and sincerely 
desired to do him good, and the best thing 1 conld 
do would be to give him higher views of life than 
he entertained, to help him to anchor his hopes 
upon the solid foundation of moral and religious 
principle. But I had only a day to remain in New 
York, for the steamer sailed on Wednesda}^, and 
we arrived on Monday night. I was not afraid to 
associate with him, and while I tried to do my 
duty by him, I also carefully avoided the errors of 
the Pharisee and the hypocrite. 

We had taken a room together in the hotel, and 
neither of us waked till ten o’clock in the fore¬ 
noon, for it was four when we retired in the morn¬ 
ing. Larry worked half an hour on his pants, 
which had been somewhat damaged in the water 
the day before. He had a small valise, from 
which he took a shirt with extravagant frills on 
the bosom, and completed his elaborate toilet with 
the nicest care. I was tired of waiting for him, 
long before he had finished his labors, and went 
down into the dining-room to order our breakfast. 
I seated myself at the table opposite a gentleman 
of fifty, at whose side sat a beautiful and very 
interesting young lady of eighteen, doubtless his 
daughter. 


40 


MVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


T*he gentleman seemed to be very sad and 
nervous, and to some extent the lady had the same 
appearance, though I saw that she .was striving to 
be cheerful and happy. I looked at her as much 
as I dared, for there was something very pleasing 
about her. While I was casting occasional glances 
at her, she told the gentleman she would go to her 
room, and get ready to go out. She left the hall 
just as Larry entered with a copy of the Herald in 
his hand. He looked at her earnestly, and turned 
to gaze at her as she passed out of the room. 

“ That’s a stunning pretty girl,” said he, in a 
low tone, as he seated himself at my side. 

“ Hush ! That’s her father,” I whispered, nod¬ 
ding towards the gentleman on the other side of 
the table, who seemed to be absorbed in his own 
gloomy thoughts, and paid no attention to us. 

She is the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes 
on,” added Larry, with enthusiasm, but in a low 
whisper. 

What’s the news ? ” I asked, in order to 
change the subject. I see you have the paper.” 

Yes, I always read the Herald at breakfast. I 
used to stick type on it,” he replied, unfolding the 
sheet. War in Europe,” he continued, reading 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


41 


the head lines under the latest news. Eighty 
thousand troops sent into Italy. I should like to 
be there, and take a hand in that row.” 

“ You don’t want to fight — do you ? ” 

“ I do; I have a decided taste for it. I fancy 
there is something in me, and that it will come out 
in time. I wasn't born to be a jour printer, and 
when my time comes, I shall be a big man.” 

That’s all folly, Larry. The only way for a 
fellow to make anything of himself is to go to 
work like a man in whatever sphere he may find 
himself. A jour printer may make a great man of 
himself as well as any other man ; but this soaring 
after the infinite, and diving into the depths of the 
unfathomable, are all moonshine.” 

“ You are a philosopher, Phil, of which I am not 
whom,” laughed Larry. 

He read the European news while we waited for 
our breakfast, and as my mother was still at Nice, 
I was deeply interested in it. 

^ Heavy defalcation,’ ” continued Larry, read¬ 
ing from another column of the paper. “ ‘ Our 
city was thrown into unwonted commotion this 
morning by the discovery of a heavy defalcation in 
the Spring Hill Bank. The sudden disappearance. 


42 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


of the cashier, Mr. Luther Fennimore, who has 
liitlierto borne an irreproachable character in the 
city, suggested an examination of the affairs of the 
bank, wliich unfortunately resulted in furnishing 
t!)e most conclusive evidence that a systematic 
course of fraud had been practised upon the 
directors for several years. The amount of the 
defalcation cannot be less than one liundred thou¬ 
sand dollars, and it is believed that the bank will 
be obliged to go into liquidation. 

‘ Mr. Fennimore has heretofore enjoyed the 
entire confidence of the directors, and of the com¬ 
munity, and it is painful to know that one who has 
been so highly respected could descend to the 
ab3^ss of crime. Mr. Fennimore is a widower, with 
an only daughter, a beautiful young lady, highly 
educated and accomplished, and her father’s error 
will be a crushing blow to her. She has been on 
a visit to a friend in New York city for several 
weeks, and it is believed that her unfortunate but 
guilty father will endeavor to see her. Officers 
have been sent to New York to intercept him if 
he attempts to leave the country in the Cunard 
steamer of Wednesday. The s^unpathies of the 
public — ’ Confound the s^^mpathies of the pub- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


43 


lie ! ” exclaimed Larry, as the waiter brought in 
our breakfast; and he threw down the jTaper. 

“ Why don't you finish the article ? I am anx¬ 
ious to hear the rest of it,*’ I interposed. 

“ Head for yourself, Phil. I never wait my 
breakfast for the sympathies of the public,” an¬ 
swered Larry, taking a large piece of steak from 
the dish. 

When iny friend began to read this article, T 
noticed that the elderly gentleman opposite me 
suddenly turned very pale. I saw that his lips 
quivered, and his whole frame was convulsed. 
He struggled to appear indifferent, but his efforts 
were opjy partially successful. I observed him 
with no little interest, and without seeming to 
watch him, I scrutinized his looks and actions 
very closely. I was afraid he was the Mr. Luther 
Fennimore alluded to in the paragraph. If so, ho 
had abundant reason to be gloomy and nervous. 
I finished the reading of the article; but the rest 
of it was only to the effect that the sympathies of 
the public would bo entirely with the beautiful 
and accomplished daughter of the defaulter. For 
my own part, I pitied him more than her, thougli 
he deserved it less, for he had the burden of 


44 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


crime on his soul, which is the heaviest load that a 
mortal can carry. 

While we were at the table the young lady 
appeared at the door, and the nervous gentleman 
hastened to join her. He was so agitated that he 
could hardly walk. When they had gone, Larry 
indulged in some enthusiastic remarks about the 
lady, and declared that he should be sure and be 
at dinner in order to see her again. I asked the 
waiter who the gentleman was, but he was unable 
to give his name. At the office I made the same 
inquiry, and the clerk pointed to Park Barnard’^ 
on the register, and “ Miss Goodspeed ” under it. 
Park Barnard was certainly not the nan^e of the 
defaulter, and the supposition that the lady and 
gentleman had entered assumed names on the 
book implied that she was a party to her father’s 
crime, which I was not willing to believe. 

I hastened to the steamer office to engage my 
passage, and took a berth in an unoccupied state¬ 
room well forward, which 1 promised to pay for in 
an hour or two. I hoped to have the room to my¬ 
self, though it was the last one in which at least 
one berth had not been taken. I then went to the 
bankers, and received the money on my draft. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


45 


Perhaps it would not have been paid if I had nut 
produced a letter from the banker in St. Louis, 
who gave a full description of me, in order to 
avoid this difSculty. With the money I bought a 
letter of credit, for general use in Europe, for four 
hundred pounds, and had enough left to pay my 
passage, and purchase twenty sovereigns in gold, 
for use before I reached London. 

Larry Grimsby went with me to all the places 
my business required me to visit, and was in¬ 
terested in all that was said and done. He in¬ 
quired particularly in regard to the method of 
obtaining funds in Europe, which I explained as 
well as I was able in so short a time. When I 
inquired in regard to the terms for the letter of 
credit, the clerk handed me two or three blank 
forms. They were signed by the banking firm, 
but contained no other writing. I concluded that 
the members of the firm were absent from the 
city, and had signed these blanks to enable the 
clerks to do business in this line during their 
absence. Larry picked up one of them, and read 
it with interest, while I examined another. The 
terms were satisfactory to me, and the letter of 
credit was filled out; I signed it in the margin 


46 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


and placed it in my pocket-book with other valua¬ 
ble papers. I saw the clerk pick up one or more 
of the blanks as we left the office. After paying 
for my passage, and purchasing my sovereigns, 
we made a visit to the steamer in which I was 
to cross the Atlantic. I saw my room, and was 
satisfied with it. 

“ I wish I was going ■with you, Phil,” said Larry, 
as we left the ship. 

I wish you were,” I replied. 

“ See here; it is dinner time, Phil,” added he, 
as the clock on Trinity struck the hour. 

We hastened to the hotel, and arrived only a 
little late; but my friend was sorely disappointed 
when he found that the pretty young lady Avas 
not at the table. Neither she nor her father ap¬ 
peared, and Ave did not see* them again at the 
hotel. After dinner Larry left me to call upon 
some of his friends. Suspecting that his Ncav 
Y ork associates were like himself, I declined to 
go Avith him. He told me that one of them oAved 
him thirty and another ten dollars, borrowed 
money, AAffiich he hoped to collect; and I Avas still 
less inclined to go Avith him, if it aams to be a 
dunning expedition. I begged him not to drink 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


47 


anything, for he might meet the young lad}^ at 
the hotel in the evening. He only laughed, and 
made no promises. 

I spent the afternoon in completing the prep¬ 
arations for my voyage.* Long before dark Larry 
returned to tlie hotel. To my surprise he was not 
tipsy, and I could not detect even the smell of 
liquor about him. 

Have you seen the young lady ? ” he asked. 

No; we will ask about her at the office.’^ 

We did so, and learned that the gentleman was 
quite sick, and that she was attending to his 
wants. Larry went out again in the evening, but 
returned before ten o’clock. 

“ Not a drop, Phil,” said he. I haven’t drank 
anything to-day.” 

I suppose you don’t feel any the worse for it.” 

“No; I can’t say that I do; but it is hard 
work to meet your friends and not drink with 
them.” 

“ Don’t do it, Larry, however hard it may be. 
The idea of a young fellow like you, only nineteen 
years old, drinking liquor, is absurd. You are 
almost sure to die a drunkard, if you keep on.” 

“ 0,1 can take care of myself; but just for a - 


48 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

joke, I thought I would knock off for a while ; I 
always took something before when I had any 
money; but as I didn’t have any, more than half 
the time, 1 couldn’t always drink, unless some 
good fellow treated me. • But I don’t often let a 
fellow treat me, unless I have the money to re¬ 
taliate with.” 

I hope you will keep up the joke for a year, at 
least.” 

Perhaps I shall; I don’t know.” 

“ To-morrow morning I must leave you, as you 
are aware ; but I hope I shall see you again. Will 
3^ou write to me, Larry, in care of the bankers ? ” I 
asked, giving him the address. 

With all my heart, if the circumstances per¬ 
mit,” laughed he. 

Tell me where you are; I will answer your 
letter.” 

My friend treated the matter very lightly, and 
with much indifference. We slept as well as usual 
that night, and I was up early in the morning. I 
routed out my companion, and we took an early 
breakfast. 

I think I will pay my bill, for I shall not stay 
here after you are gone,” said Larry, when I 
called for my account. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


49 


I should think you would get into some good 
boarding-house, and go to work at once, so that 
you may always 6nd a dollar in your pocket when 
you fish for one,” I added. 

Your advice shall be considered.” 

I engaged a car-man to take my trunk over to 
the city, and Larry, with his little valise in his 
hand, walked down to the ferry with me. I 
wondered that he should be so absurd as to carry 
it over and back, when he could just as well leave 
it at the hotel; but he insisted upon having his 
own way. Already there was a crowd on the 
wharf when we went on board of the ship. Car¬ 
riages were arriving and departing, and great 
piles of baggage were conveyed on board. I had 
my trunk carried to my room, and went down my¬ 
self, to ascertain whether I was to be alone or not. 
Larry went with me, and placed his valise in the 
upper berth. No other passenger appeared, and 
I proposed .to go on deck to see the exciting 
scenes attending the departure of an ocean 
steamer. 

Better not leave your valise there, Larry,” I 
suggested. “ You may not have time to come down 
after it, when the order to leave the ship is given.”' 
4 


50 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


valise has taken passage for Liverpool/^ 
laughed he. 

Your valise ? 

“ Yes ; but I have concluded to go with it, in 
order to take care of it.” 

You don't mean to say that you are going to 
Liverpool — do you ? ” 

I do,” he replied, producing his ticket. 

I was confounded by this evidence of his inten¬ 
tion, and for certain reasons I was not altogether 
pleased. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


51 


CHAPTER IV. 

IN WHICH PHIL WALKS ABOUT THE DECK, AND FINDS 
ANOTHER GRIMSBY. 



WAS startled by the announcement of Larry 


A Grimsby, that he intended to go to Liverpool 
in the steamer. As he had his ticket, he had 
evidently paid his fare, and I had no right to 
interfere, even if I had been disposed to do so. 
Certainly I had some selfish fears, which annoyed 
me not a little. I could not exactly understand 
where he had obtained money enough to pay for 
his passage ,* but I concluded that he had collected 
the whole or a portion of the forty dollars due him 
from his former associates in the city. But even 
if he had added forty dollars to the hundred I 
had given him, he had plainly expended nearly 
every dollar in his possession for the purchase of 
his ticket. 

When he landed in Europe he would not have 


52 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


anything, to pny his expenses, and I feared that 
my exchequer would be required to foot his bills 
as well as my own. Gratoful as I was to him for 
the valuable service he had rendered me, I could 
hardly afford to pay his expenses; and when we 
were together in a foreign land, I did not see how 
I could refuse to do so, as long as my money 
lasted. After all, had he not saved my life beyond 
the possibility of a doubt? .With this view, I 
thought I could not do too. much for him, even if I 
gave him all the money I had in the world. I was 
determined, therefore, not to worry about him; at 
least not till I understood his plans better. 

We went on deck after securing our seats at 
the table in the saloon. We walked about, and 
looked at everybody and everything. I was in¬ 
terested in the busy scene around me, and excited 
by the prospect before me. Larry took every¬ 
thing as coolly as though he had crossed the ocean 
a dozen times. 

“ Hallo, Chaplin! ” exclaimed he, as ho en¬ 
countered a rather disagreeable-looking man near 
the smoke-stack. 

Hist, Larry ! Don’t mention my name here,” 
replied the person addressed. 


THK STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


53 


V/hy not ? Do yon want to cut an old 
friend ? ” 

By no means; but don’t mention my name, 
if you please,” added Chaplin, with an expressive 
wink. 

Certainly not, if you say so; but 1 am sorry 
you are ashamed of your name.” 

It isn’t that, Larry. The fact of it is, I’m in 
the shadow business just now,” replied Chaplin, in 
a low tone. 

Is that so ? This is my particular friend, Phil 
Farringforcl.” 

I shook hands with him, but I did not repeat liis 
name, after the expressive warning not to do so. 

He’s in the shadow business,” laughed Larry. 

Pray, what’s the shadow business?” I asked, 
having never heard the expression before. 

Don’t you know, Phil? He .is a detective. 
He is on the lookout for some rogue who will try 
to leave in this steamer. Isn’t that so, my chap?” 

‘‘Just so; big game, too.” 

“ I suppose you won’t mind telling me what 
it is.” 

“ No; it’s a bank cashier; but don’t mention it.’’ 

“ Not a word.” 


54 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Very likely you read about it in the papers,” 
added Cliaplin. 

‘•The one with the higlily educated and ac¬ 
complished daughter — is that the one ? ” 

“The same; he’s booked for this steamer; but 
he won’t come on board till the last minute. I’m 
stationed here, where I can see every one that 
comes down the wharf. Keep your eyes open, 
and 3 mu may see some fun.” 

I did not think there could be any fun in seeing 
a poor wretch arrested for his crime, especiall}^ if 
the anguish of his innocent daughter was to be a 
part of the spectacle. But I was interested in the 
case, and when the defaulter appeared, I half 
expected to see the tremulous gentleman whom 
I had met at the breakfast table the day before. 
After talking with the detective a few moments, 
we continued our walk. 

“You know that man, Larry?” I said, wishing 
to learn more about him. 

“Yes; he used to be a printer, and I worked 
with him,” replied my friend. “ He’s in mean 
business now; but I think he’s up to it.” 

“ Why mean business ? ” 

“ Well, it is mean to dog people’s steps, and set 



THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


55 


traps to catch them. 1 wouldn’t do it to save my 
body from starvation,” continued Larry, explaining 
the business more in detail. 

“ I suppose he is sure to catch this man, if he 
attempts to leave in this ship.” 

No doubt of it. There are three or four of 
them on the wharf and in the vessel.” 

\ By the way, Larry, I fancy we have seen this 
defaulter,” I added. 

a 1^0 I V 

In my opinion it is the gentleman who was 
with the young lady at the Western Hotel.” 

You don’t mean it! ” 

Of course I may be mistaken, but I certainly 
think so; ” and I explained the grounds of my 
belief. 

If I thought he was the father of that stun¬ 
ning pretty •girl. I’d help him off, if I could.” 

“ That would not be right,” I replied, shaking 
my head. 

“ Why not ? These banks are sponging shops j 
they rob the people of tlieir money, and this 
cashier only paid them off in their own coin.” 

“ Wrong, all wrong. The banks are perfectly 
proper institutions, and the cashier had no right 


56 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

to take what did not belong to him. Your argu¬ 
ment is utterly ridiculous.” 

^‘Perhaps it is; I’m no philosopheiy’ laughed 
he. “ I’m going below to get a handkerchief. I’ll 
be with you again in a moment.” 

I saw him descend the steps, and I walked 
forward, deeply interested in the exciting scene 
around me. I passed the ‘‘ shadow,” who still had/ 
his eyes fixed on the wharf, where carriages were 
bringing passengers for the steamer. I continued 
my walk to the bow, where, as I was turning to 
retrace my steps, I encountered Larry, as I 
supposed. 

“ 1 thought you went below,” I remarked, halt¬ 
ing in front of the person addressed. Did you 
see Mr. Fennimore and his* daughter ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon,” replied he. 

^ A second glance at him assured me,I had made 
a blunder ; but certainly the person bore a marvel¬ 
lous resemblance to my friend. If I had observed 
his dress before I spoke to him, I might have 
avoided the blunder. 

“ Excuse me; I thought it was Mr. Grimsby,” I 
apologized. 

“ Indeed, sir, that is my name,” added the 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


57 


young man, evidently much perplexed at my 
conduct. 

‘‘But not the Mr. Grimsby with whom I am 
acquainted, though you look very much like him.’' 

The voice and manner of the speaker were 
quite different from Larry's, though, looking at his 
face only, I was not surprised at my mistake. A 
close scrutiny of his features^nd expression, how¬ 
ever, revealed some points of difference. Ilis 
dress and manner were decidedly English. 

“ I beg your pardon," added the stranger; “but 
you mentioned a gentleman Avith whom I am con¬ 
nected; my uncle, indeed — Mr. Fennimore." 

“ I do not even know the person of whom I 
spoke; but as you seem to be an Englisliman, 
probably he is not the Mr. Fennimore Avho is your 
unple. I allude to the bank defaulter, for whom 
the officers are'just now in search." 

“ A bank defaulter!" exclaimed he ; and I 
was afraid, after all, that I had “ put my foot 
into it." 

“ I merely read about the matter in the neAvs- 
paper," I replied. 

“ Of course it cannot be my uncle, then, who is 
coming on board by the post steamer; but it's a 


58 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


bit strange that we have so many people with the 
same names.’^ 

I conversed a few moments with him on indif¬ 
ferent topics, and then resumed my walk. The 
bells began to ring violently, and an officer ordered 
all but the passengers to go ashore. The great 
hawsers were cast off, and the wheels began to 
turn. I passed the shadow,” and saw he had no 
intention of leaving the steamer. 

Do you go to Liverpool with us ? ” I asked. 

No; a small steamer brings off the mails, and 
very likely my man will come off in her.” 

This was doubtless the boat which the English 
Grimsby called the post steamer.” Of course, as 
he was from England, the defaulter could not be 
his uncle. I paced the deck again, bestowing my 
last look upon the city of New York. Hundreds 
of people, on the wharf and on the steamer, were 
waving their adieus with hats and handkerchiefs, 
and I tried to be a little sentimental. I wondered 
why Larry did not come up to witness this interest¬ 
ing scene ; but I saw nothing of him. 

We are off,” said some one near me. 

I turned, and found that the remark was ad¬ 
dressed to me. As I did so, I recognized the 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


59 


English Grimsby with a young lady on his arm. I 
was not a little startled when I discovered that 
she was the same one I had seen at the Western 
Hotel. 

“ I beg your pardon/^ said Mr. Grimsby; “ but I 
desire very much to see the person for whom you 
mistook me.” 

“ He is not on deck just at this moment,” I re¬ 
plied ; “ but I will bring him to you as soon as he 
comes up.” 

Thank you. I’m curious about the matter, 
especially as you mentioned my uncle’s name. I 
beg jmur pardon, but I haven’t the pleasure of 
your name.” 

Mr. Farringford. Philip Farringford.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Farringford. You have mine, 
and now we are even. This is Miss Fennimorp, 
my cousin.” 

The young lady bowed rather coldly, as though 
she did not quite approve the conduct of her 
cousin in introducing her to a mere chance ac¬ 
quaintance. • 

‘‘ This is a beautiful day we have to commence 
our voyage,” I added. 

Very fine,” she answered, somewhat haughtily. 


60 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OP. 


Finding that my company was not particularly 
agreeable to her, I touched my hat, bowed, and 
retired. I wanted to see Larry then, for the re¬ 
quest of Grimsby would afford me an opportunity 
of introducing him to both. He was not on deck 
yet, and I was going below to .seek him, when the 
steamer’s wheels stopped, and the mail-boat came 
alongside. I was curious to see what was done, 
and I anticipated an exciting scene when the 
defaulter came on board. Though I could not 
explain it, I was satisfied that the uncle of Grims- 
b}^ was the person for whom the officers were 
seeking. The haughty young lady must suffer a 
degree of anguish she had never known before. I 
pitied her, but I could not leave the deck while 
this terrible scene was impending. The mails 
were brought on board, and then the baggage. I 
looked eagerly for the gentleman who had been so 
nervous at the hotel when Larry read the news. 
He did not appear, and the small steamer was 
ready to cast off. Chaplin was disconcerted. I 
sa\v him in consultation with several others, who, 
I concluded, were “ shadows,” like himself. The 
bells rang, and the officers shouted; but the 
detectives were not ready to leave the ship. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


61 


They spoke to the impatient captain, and then 
went into the saloon. I followed them, curious to 
know what was to be done. They scrutinized all 
the passengers in the cabin, and then went below. 
I saw tliem looking into all the state-rooms. 

This is his room,” said Chaplin, at the one 
next to mine, “ or at least the one engaged for Mr. 
Park Barnard.” 

There were some trunks in it, but no pas¬ 
sengers. I found that my room was locked, and 
the shadow knocked at the door. 

Who's there? ” demanded Larry. 

Open the door, Larry,” I replied, taking the 
matter out of the hands of the officers. 

Hold on a minute, Phil. I'm mending my 
trousers.” 

Chaplin laughed, and said he knew that voice. 

Is this your room ? ” he asked, turning to me. 

‘•Yes; Larry and I have it together,” I an¬ 
swered. 

Is there any other person in there ? ” 

There are only two berths; Larry has one, 
and I have the other.” 

That’s all right,” added Chaplin, as he and his 
companions passed on to the next room. 


62 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I followed them, as did half a dozen others, 
including the chief steward. The search was a 
fruitless one. Mr. Fennimore could not be found, 
and the “ shadows ” were satisfied that he was not 
on board. 

“ He was afraid to show himself after that 
article in the newspapers,’^ said Chaplin to one 
of his fellows. “That newspaper correspondent 
ought to be hung.” 

They went on board of the mail-boat, and when 
it had cast off, the great wheels of the steamer 
began to turn again, and we were actually com¬ 
mencing the voyage. Miss Fennimore and Grims¬ 
by were on the quarter-deck, and I went below 
again to see Larry, after we had passed the Nar¬ 
rows. The door of our room was still fastened, 
and I knocked. 

# 

“ Who is it ? ” called Larry. 

“ Open the door,” I replied. 

“Hold on a little while — will you, Phil?” 

“ Can’t you let me in now ? ” 

“ Are you alone ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

I thought the last was rather an odd question, 
and I did not see the point of it; but he opened 
the door, and I stepped in. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


63 


What in the world are you about, Larry ? ” 
I asked. 

I have to do my own mending/’ laughed lie; 
“ and I was busy at a job that comes under that 
head.” 

But why didn’t you go on dock, and see the 
fun? We have passed through the Narrows, and 
the view was worth seeing.” 

Confound the view ! I have seen it a hundred 
times before now.” 

“ There is a young fellow on board — an Eng¬ 
lishman— that looks like 3'ou, Larry; so much so 
that I spoke to him, thinking it was you. He 
wants to see you; and there is a certain young 
lady with him.” 

Precisely so,” he replied, exhibiting no sur¬ 
prise. “ And I was spoken to by a gentleman who 
thought I was somebody else. He called me 
Miles. B}" the way, Phil, have the cops all 
gone ? ” 

The what ? ” 

“ The shadows — 3"Ou know.” 

Every one of them. They were disappointed, 
and declared that the newspaper article you read 
had defeated their plans.” 


64 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Perhaps it did.’^ ^ 

The officers searched the steamer before 
they left.” 

I know they did,” chuckled Larry. 

“ How did you know, when you were mending 
your trousers, locked up in your room?” 

“ 1 didn’t mend them much,” he replied, glan¬ 
cing at his berth with an expression so significant 
that I could not help doing the same. 

In the berth, with his head resting upon his 
hand, was Mr. Luther Fennimore, the bank de¬ 
faulter ; and I realized what iny unprincipled com¬ 
panion had been doing. I was startled, as though 
an apparition had suddenly burst upon my view. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


65 


CHAPTER y. 


IN WHICH PHIL LISTENS TO THE DEFAULTER’S STORY, 
AND BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH BLANCHE 
FENNIMORE. 

F HE steamer had discharged her pilot, and was 



JL well away from the land, when I discovered 
Mr. Fennimore in my state-room. Though I 
believe, most earnestly, that every man should 
mind his own business, I am satisfied that under 
the specious pretence of doing so, many people 
connive at knavery. I could not help asking 
myself whether any responsibility rested upon me 
for the escape of the defaulter. As I had made 
the discovery of his presence in my room only 
after the ship was clear of the land, I could not 
believe that any guilt attached to me. I do not 
think that bank defaulters are any the less guilty 
because they have moved in good society; and 
certainly, if I had known that Mr. Fennimore was 


5 


G6 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

on board, I would have done what I could to bring 
him to justice for his crime. 

Miles Grimsby had told me that his uncle would 
come off to the steamer in the boat with the 
mails, and I was very much surprised to find that 
he was on board. Just before I went below, I 
had seen Miles and Miss Fennimore walking on 
the hurricane deck. 1 wondered now whether 
she knew all the time that her father was on 
board. If she expected him to come off in the 
mail-boat, she would naturally have been very 
much alarmed at his non-appearance. I had not 
noticed any demonstration on her part, and I was 
driven to the conclusion that she knew he was in 
the ship. I did not see how the defaulter could 
have eluded the officers without the assistance of 
Larry. The daughter did not seem to trouble 
herself about the safety of her father, and I still 
regarded her as innocent of all knowledge of his 
crime. 

Mr. Fennimore lay in the upper berth, which 
had been appropriated to Larry’s use. His head 
rested upon his hand, and he had evidently been 
engaged in conversation with my room-mate. His 
hair was disarranged, and his toilet much dis- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. G7 

turbed, and I concluded, from the appearance of 
the bed-clothing, that he had been concealed 
beneath it. He was still very nervous, and wore 
the same anxious expression as when I had first 
seen him at the table of the hotel. I glanced at 
him, and then at Larry. My friend chuckled, and 
evidently thought he had done a clever thing in 
outwitting the officers, and in throwing dust into 
my eyes. 

Come in, Phil,” said Larry, after I had re¬ 
garded the situation in silence for a moment. 

“ This room seems to be pretty well occupied 
already,” I replied. 

Room enough for one more, my dear fellow. 
Come in, and make yourself at home — as though 
you belonged here.” 

I had an idea that I did belong here; but I 
begin to think I do not,” I added. 

Come in, young man, if you please,” said Mr. 
Fennimore. 1 am ready to leave your room 
now; but I should like to speak with you a few 
moments before I go.” 

I entered the room, and seated myself on the 
narrow sofa under the port. Larry shut the door,, 
and bolted it. 


68 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ It seems, young man, that you know my 
secret,’’ continued the defaulter. 

I know it now; I only suspected it before,” I 
answered. 

‘‘ We met at the hotel, I think.” 

‘‘ I saw you and your daughter there. When 
my friend here read the article in the Herald 
about the bank defaulter, I saw that you were 
very nervous, and trembled violently. I con¬ 
cluded from this circumstance, and the description 
of your daughter, that you were the person.” 

It would be useless, even if it were necessary, 
for me to attempt to conceal the fact that I am the 
person—Mr. Fennimore, the bank defaulter,” he 
replied, with a shudder, as if the acknowledgment 
of his crime wrung his very soul. 

“You entered your name at the hotel as Park 
Barnard,” I added. 

“ I did.” 

“ Does your daughter know that you are on 
board ? ” I inquired. 

“ She does; she came with me. I knew from 
the article which was in the paper that I should 
be closely watched, and we came on board before 
six o’clock this morning. I bribed porters and 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


69 


servants; I told them I was sick, — as, indeed, I 
am, — and had just reached the city. A steward 
showed me my room^ which is the next to this. I 
explained that I did not wish to be disturbed, and 
asked him not to tell any one that I was on board. 
No one came near me, and I believed that I was 
safe till this young man, whom I took to be my 
nephew when I spoke to him, assured me of my 
mistake, and kindly aided me. He concealed me 
in his bed, and covered me with bags and valises, 
in such a way that he declared I was entirely 
safe.’^ 

But the officers didn’t even look in, Phil, 
thanks to your assistance,” chuckled Larry. 

They would have come in, if I had suspected 
that anything was wrong,” I replied. 

Come, come I Don’t be ugly, after you have 
done a good thing for a fellow.” 

I see that I have not your sympathies,” added 
the anxious occupant of the upper berth. 

Personally I have no ill will against you ; but 
I would not willingly aid any man in concealing 
a crime, like robbing a bank. Does your nephew 
know that you are here ? ” 

Probably Blanche has told him by this time.” 


70 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Blanche ? ” 

My daughter. I told Miles yesterday that 
Blanche would come on board with a friend, and 
I should join her by the mail-boat.’^ 

Does Miles or your daughter know that you 
are a defaulter?” I asked. 

Certainly not ; whatever becomes of me, I 
hope they will never know it,” added Mr. Fenni- 
more, with a convulsive start. 

Was the statement in the paper true, that you 
had taken a hundred thousand dollars from the 
bank?” I asked. 

It was. Twenty-five years ago I was a mer¬ 
chant, and a successful one. At the age of 
twenty-three I was admitted as the junior partner 
of a large house in New York. I went to Europe 
frequently, and in England married Sara Grove- 
land, the daughter of Sir Hale Groveland, Knight. 
Miles Grimsby, the father of the young man on 
board, who resembles our friend here so strongly, 
and the son of Sir Philip Grimsby, Baronet, 
married another daughter of Sir Hale. I was 
fortunate, but I was extravagant. I intended that 
my wife should live in a style equal to that of her 
titled relatives in England; and she did. One of 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


71 


the senior partners of our firm died, the other 
retired, and the business came into my hands. 
But it. had lost its controlling minds, though I 
believed myself fully competent to manage it, 
even better than my late seniors. I was mistaken, 
and in a couple of years I made a disastrous 
failure. I tried again, with no better success. I 
was poor — very poor. I had ‘nothing, and no 
one would give me credit. My wife never re¬ 
proached me, but my reverses preyed upon her 
spirits, and she died, leaving me an only daughter. 
Perhaps affliction chastened me for a time. With 
the aid of powerful friends, I obtained the situa¬ 
tion of cashier of the Lowerville Bank. 

I had no vices, and I was respected in the 
community. I kept house for my daughter’s sake, 
and gave her a very expensive education. As 
she grew older, I had parties for her benefit; and 
spoiled by the luxury and extravagance of my 
earlier years, I exceeded my income, and ran in 
debt. To avoid trouble outside, I used the fund^ 
of the bank, intending to reduce my expenses,/a:nd 
return the sums I had appropriated. Ins.t^d of 
being able to diminish my expenditures, they 
continued to increase, until I foui^d that I^c)i;y%(| 


72 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


tlie bank nearly fifty thousand dollars. I was ap¬ 
palled and terrified by the extent of my defalca¬ 
tion. I could not hope to make it good. The 
officers of the bank had unlimited confidence in 
me, and I had the villain’s art to conceal the 
frauds. But I worried day and night about my 
situation. Sleep was almost a stranger to my 
eyelids, and my health failed. I felt that I must 
soon die, and I trembled when I thought that a 
week’s illness and absence from the bank might 
expose its affairs and my crime to the world. I 
could not endure the idea of leaving my daughter 
only a legacy of poverty and crime, and I deter¬ 
mined, before it was too late, to flee to another 
country. 

“ Blanche, like a true and loving daughter, was 
sadly troubled about my failing health, and I 
spoke to her of going to Europe for its restoration. 
My sister and her son Miles had spent the winter 
in Virginia, for her health, and a month ago came 
New York, to visit friends there. Blanche was 
also invited, and deeming this a good opportunity 
to carry out my plan, I told her to accept the 
invitation, and that we would go to England with 
the Grimsbys in May. She went to the city, and did 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


73 


not again return to Lowerville. I took fifty thou¬ 
sand dollars of the funds of the bank, and then 
closed its doors for the last time, on the day 
before I saw you at the hotel. Before dark I was 
in New York, and took Blanche from the house of 
her friends, on the plea that the hotel was nearer 
the steamer. Before it was known to the public 
at large, I had changed my funds into gold and 
Bank of England notes, for I dared not trust them 
in a bill of exchange. The money is in this small 
valise,’^ said he, raising the portmanteau in the 
berth. The article you read, frightened me 
terribly; and I am so ill now that I can hardly 
stand up.’^ 

“ Then none of your friends with you know 
what you have done ? asked. 

“ No; nor suspect it. I hope to reach some 
retired place in Italy or Germany, wdiere I may 
live in preace and penitence,’’ said he, gloomily. 

“ Penitence ! ” I exclaimed. “ I should say there 
could be no such thing till you had restored your 
ill-gotten wealth.” 

I cannot starve.” 

Better starve than be dishonest.” 

But my daughter? ” 


74 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

I am sure, if she kne\y the whole truth, she 
would not permit you to retain a penny of the 
stolen money.” 

You are right, Mr. Farringford,” replied the 
defaulter, with a groan of real anguish. 

Don’t be too stiff, Phil,” interposed Larry. 

“ Blanche shall never know anything about this 
matter.” 

“ Mr. Farringford is right; he is an honest 
young man; and if he knew how much I have 
suffered, he would pity me.” 

I do pity you now; but-1 should respect you 
more, if you gave up the stolen money.” 

‘‘ I have not the courage to do that; but I 
feel quite ill, and I wish to go to my own room 
now.” 

Larry and I assisted him to his state-room, and 
saw him made as comfortable as possible. 

“ You will not betray me to my daughter, Mr. 
Farringford — will you ? ” pleaded he. 

“ I don’t know what to do. I should feel as 
though I had a guilty knowledge of your crime, if 
I assisted in concealing it. But I shall not make 
your daughter unhappy, iff can avoid it. We will 
drop the matter now, if you please.” 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


75 


“ Will one of you ask Blanche to come to me ? 
I feel very ill indeed, and I wonder she does not 
come down.” 

“ I will go, and Larry may stay with you till 
she comes,” I replied, leaving the room. 

I went to the hurricane deck. The steamer 
had some time before begun to roll in the long 
swells of the ocean, though the weather was mild 
and pleasant. I found Blanche Fennimore ex¬ 
tended upon a seat, looking very pale. She was 
seasick, and this fully explained her continued 
absence from her father. Mrs. Grimsby, her aunt, 
lay near her in the same situation, and Miles was 
taking care of both of them. 

Both ill,” said Miles, as I paused near the 
sufferers. 

“ So I perceive.” 

Have you seen my uncle, or don’t you know 
him ? ” 

He is in his room, quite ill.” 

He is very feeble; he told me he should come 
off in the post steamer; but my cousin says they 
came on board early in the morning, because he 
was so ill.” 

He wished me to find his daughter.” 


76 * BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

Do you speak of my father ? said Miss Fen- 
nimore, raising her head a little. 

Yes; he is quite sick, and desires to see you. 
I have just assisted him to his berth. I will tell 
him you are sick,’’ I replied. 

No; I will go to him. Poor father ! he is very 
feeble, and his is not seasickness.” 

She rose from her reclining posture on the seat, 
and a roll of the ship would have thrown her 
down, if Miles had not caught her arm. 

I will take you down,” said he. 

Don’t leave me. Miles,” groaned Mrs. Grimsby. 

“ My mother is very bad; perhaps Mr. Farring- 
ford will assist you, Blanche.” 

Certainly,” I replied, promptly offering my 
arm, which she took. 

Being an old sailor, I was entirely at home on 
the uneasy deck, and safely conducted my fair 
charge down to the main deck. 

“ Do you feel any worse for moving?” I asked. 

Yes ; I can hardly stand ; let me sit down for 
a moment.” 

I conducted her to a sofa, and then went to 
the cabin for a lemon, which I offered to her. 
She gasped her thanks, and following my direc- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


77 


tion, swallowed a considerable portion of the 
lemon juice. In a few moments she declared 
that she felt a little better, and was ready to go 
below. 

.“Is my father worse?’' she asked. 

“ I fear he is; and I am afraid it is not sea¬ 
sickness,” I replied. 

“ No; he has been in failing health for a long 
time. I hope this journey will help him.” 

“We have done what we could for him, and my 
friend is taking care of him now.” 

“ You are vwy kind, and I thank you great¬ 
ly. Your friend is very good.” 

“ He is a noble fellow. Only three days ago he 
saved my life at the peril of his own, though I had 
never seen him before. He is always trying to 
help some one.” 

We reached the state-room of Mr. Fennimore, 
where Larry was stifl at work over his patient. 
He had placed the trunks under the lower 
berth, and put everything in order in the little 
apartment. I introduced him to Miss Fennimore, 
as we entered. He received her with e^ravagant 
deference, and placed a stool for her use at the 
side of her father’s berth. 


78 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


glad you have come, Blanche,’’ moaned 
her father. 

You are very sick, father! ” exclaimed she, 
anxiously. 

I shall soon be better. I missed you very 
much,” he added. 

‘‘ I found her quite ill with’ seasickness,” I 
interposed. 

Poor child ! ” said he. “ I hoped she would 
not be sick ; but she was never at sea before.” 

I am better now, father,” replied she, trying 
to be cheerful; but I saw that it was very up¬ 
hill work. 

I have had a kind friend and nurse in Mr. 
Grimsby,” added the. sick man. 

am very grateful to him. How much he 
looks like Miles! I am not surprised at the 
mistake you made, Mr. Farringford.” 

I made the same mistake,” continued Mr. 
Fennimore, very, feebly. 

He seemed to me to be in’a dangerous con¬ 
dition, and I advised the calling of the doctor; 
but the invalid would not consent to it, and 
Larry and I left him to the tender ministrations 
of his daughter, asking her to knock on the 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


79 


partition which separated our room from Mr. Fen- 
nimore's, if she needed any assistance. We did 
not dare to say anything about the remarkable 
events of the day, lest the innocent daughter 
should overhear it. We busied ourselves for a 
time in putting the room in order; but in less 
than half an hour, we heard tne knock on the 
partition. 


80 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OE 


CHAPTER YL 

IN WHICH PHIL HAS A MELANCHOLY PASSAGE ACROSS 
THE ATLANTIC. 

ARRY and I returned to the state-room of 



E J Mr. Fennimore. Blanche was still very 
pale, but her anxiety about her father seemed to 
•have overcome her own tendency to seasickness. 
Possibly the lemon which she still used had some 
effect. She said nothing about herself; all her 
thought was for her father, who was suffering 
severe pain, probably increased by the uneasy 
motion of the ship. Mr. Fennimore had consented 
that the surgeon should be called, and I went for 
him. He made a careful examination of the 
patient, and prescribed medicines for him. He 
looked very serious, but he expressed no decided 
opinion in regard to the result. 

Though I had had very little experience in 
sickness, I believed that the defaulter had worn 


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THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


81 


himself out with the anxiety wliich his crime 
produced. He was very feeble when I first saw 
him, and in a state of tremulous anxiety. I had 
no doubt that often, v.dien he should have been in 
his bed at home, he had gone to the bank, goaded 
tliit'her by a fear of discovery. Tie had evidently 
sapped out the fountains of vitality in his system, 
and I felt that crime was-tiie crudest taskmaster 
in the world. His safety for a time seemed to be 
assured as soon as the steamer was in blue water. 
The excitement which, had strained his nerves to 
their utmost tension was partially removed, and 
there seemed to be nothing now to sustain him. 
As soon as the pressure was abated he sank under 
the change. 

I went out when the doctor did, and asked him 
a question in regard to the patient. After I had 
told him that the sick man was not my relative, he 
spoke with more freedom. He declared that Mr. 
Fennimore was a very sick man ; one who had 
probably exhausted all his vitality in attending 
too closely to his business; there was nothing left 
of him. He declined to express an opinion in 
regard to the result of the sickness, but said 
he considered the invalid in a very dangerous 
6 


82 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


condition, and that the ship was the worst place 
in the world for him. 

I cannot follow the case into its details. Mr. 
Fennimore grew Avorse every day, and even every 
hour. Poor Blanche was almost helpless, for the 
sea was rough, and she was able to do very little. 
Larry was with the sick man day and night, 
nursing him as tenderly and carefully as though 
the sufferer had been his own father. Mrs. 
Grimsby Avas still doAAm Avith seasickness, and 
unable to leave her berth. I did all that Larry 
Avould permit me to do, Avhich Avas hardly three or 
four hours’ service at night while he slept. I re¬ 
garded him as a Avonderfal felloAv, for Avhile he 
appeared to have no high moral or religious 
principle, he Avas Avilling to Avear himself out in 
the service of others. He kept Blanche from her 
father’s room as much as possible, and tAvo or 
three times every day I Avalked Avith her on deck. 
She talked of nothing but her father, and I could 
say very little to comfort her, for I kneAv that 
the doctor now regarded the case as almost hope¬ 
less. I told Larry to AA'alk Avith Miss Fennimore; 
but, singular being that he Avas, he Avould never 
do it, though he made no secret to me of his 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


83 


admiration, and even his love, for the young lady. 
He kept his post at the sick bed of her father. 

After, one of these walks with Blanche, on the 
sixth day from New York, I returned with her to 
Mr. Fennimore’s room. Larry followed me into 
our own apartment, leaving the daughter to take 
care of the sufferer. He looked very serious and 
strange to me, and I was sure that he had some¬ 
thing to say, before he opened his mouth. 

“ Phil,” said he, looking into my face, but 
quickly lowering his gaze to the floor. 

“Well, Larry?” 

He looked at me, then through the port, and on 
the floor. 

‘‘ What were you going to say ? ” I asked. 

Did you ever pray, Phil?” he added, as if 
speaking with a desperate effort. 

Certainly. I do so every day ,* and I hope 
you do.” 

“ I never did such a thing in all my life. I 
always looked upon it as buncombe and humbug; 
but I am beginning to change my mind. I never 
saw a man suffer so much in his mind as Mr. Fen- 
nimore does. It is really horrible. You were 
right about robbing banks, and such things. It 


84 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


don’t pay. I would rather live on half rations for 
forty years, than endure what Fennimore suffers 
in ten minutes. He asked me to pray with liirn, 
while you were walking with Blanche. lie could 
hardly speak, but he was in earnest. I told 
him I couldn’t do it; had never done such a 
thing in my life; but that I would speak to you 
about it.” 

Isn’t there a clergyman on board, among the 
passengers ? ” 

That’s what I suggested to him; but he does 
not wish to see any strangers. Can’t you pray 
with him, Phil ? It will do him a power of good, 
I think.” 

I will, if he desires it,” I answered, taking my 
Bible from the shelf 

Between you and me, Phil, you will be too 
late if you don’t do it soon,” whispered Larry, 
very seriously. “ I don’t believe he will hold out 
another day.” 

“ I will go to him at once,” I replied, and left 
the room. 

1 had hardly entered his apartment before Mr. 
Fennimore, in a scarcely audible voice, introduced 
the subject upon which Larry had spoken to me. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


85 


I saw that he was suffering terribly in view of the 
near approach of death. 

Blanche was weeping, and I was confident that 
he had told her he had not long to live. I had 
never before seen greater human agony than 
was depicted on his wan face, and I fjave not 
since ; and the mental anguish was vastly greater 
than the physical. Larry soon followed me, and 
then, with difficulty, Mr. Fennimore’ asked his 
daughter to leave him for a few moments. Under 
ordinary circumstances, this would have been a 
strange request; but I understood the suffereFs 
motives, and I seconded his desire, though I do 
not believe, if tlie whole truth in regard to her 
father’s crime had been revealed to her at that 
moment, it would have checked the current of her 
filial love. I would not have impaired her con¬ 
fidence in him for all the world. Larry gently led 
her from the state-room. 

Pray for me, Mr. Farringford,’’ gasped the 
invalid, with a violent effort. 

Shall I read you a few verses from the New 
Testament first ? ” I asked. 

Anything that will tell me whether God can 
forgive one who has sinned as I have sinned,” 
groaned he. 


86 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I was familiar enough with the sacred writings 
to find the passages most appropriate to his con¬ 
dition. Then I talked to him for a few minutes. 
I repeated what I had read, that Christ on the 
cross had assured the repentant malefactor of his 
pardon. I urged upon him the necessity of 
making all the restitution in his power for the 
crime he had committed. 

I will! I will ! ” exclaimed he, with all the 
veheme-nce his feebleness would permit. “ Take 
that valise, Mr. Farringford, and return the money 
to the bank. I can do no more than this, and my 
daughter may suffer from want because I do this. 
0 God, forgive me for Christ’s sake! ” groaned he, 
as the scene of his guilt weighed down his soul, 
now ready to wing its flight from the mortal body. 
Deeply moved by what I saw and heard, I knelt 
down before his berth, and pra3^ed for him with all 
the earnestness which my pitying heart demanded 
of me. Nothing more sincere had ever passed my 
lips, and as I proceeded, the penitent defaulter 
uttered the most devout invocations for pardon. 
I finished, and then repeated to him some of the 
hymns I had learned, which illustrate -the mercy 
and forgiveness of God to the truly penitent. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


87 


They comforted him even- more than the prayer. 
But he was exhausted, and could no longer utter a 
word; yet his face looked more serene and placid. 

I asked him if he felt more at peace, and he nodded 
his head. Blanche and Larry returned, hut I con¬ 
tinued to repeat the hymns to him. I wished I 
could sing, but I could not. I had heard a party 
of ladies and gentlemen sing Nearer, my God, to 
thee,” on Sunday, and I left the cabin to find 
them. I asked them to sing this hymn near the 
bedside of the dying man, and they promptly con¬ 
sented. I placed them in the gangway near the 
door, and then told Mr. Fennimore what I had 
done. He smiled then — what 1 had never seen 
him do before. The ladies and gentlemen sang 
the beautiful hymn in tender and subdued tones. 
The dying man listened as though it were the 
music of a choir of angels hovering over his 
couch. Repeatedly he smiled as he pressed the 
hand of Blanche, and I realized that he was at* 
peace. 

The doctor frequently came to the state-room. 
From the beginning he had done everything it 
was possible for a good physician to do. Among 
the passengers was an English medical gentleman 


88 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


of considerable celebrity, who was called in for 
consultation; so we felt that every possible thing 
had been done for the patient. Mr. Fennimore 
was calm and peaceful now, and we left him alone 
with Blanche for a time. Late in the evening he 
wished to see me again. More by signs than by 
words he made me understand that I was to open 
the valise and take therefrom his ill-gotten wealth. 
I did so. 

Send the money to the bank,” said he^ in a 
hardly audible whisper. 

I promised to do what he desired, and I realized 
that this act was a great comfort and consolation 
to him. 

Did Blanche know you had this money ? ” 1 
inquired. 

No ; no one knew it. Send it back—I shall 
die in peace.” 

With a heavy sense of responsibility resting 
* upon me, I placed the large sum in my trunk. I 
did not deem it advisable even to mention the 
matter to Larry. Contrary to all our expectations, 
Mr. Fennimore lived two days longer ; arid 1 think 
his life was prolonged by the peace he had found 
in penitence and pardon. Several times a day I 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOI.DIER. 


89 


read the Scriptures to him, and prayed with him. 
The singers sang several liymns near his room, to 
which he listened in enraptured silence. Blanche 
was more reconciled when her father became so 
gentle and peaceful. She was tolerably calm in 
his presence, but she wept incessantly when away 
from him. The passengers were full of sympathy, 
and the poor girl had no lack of comforters 
among those of her own sex who had passed 
through a similar experience. 

On the ninth day from New York, the green 
shores of Ireland were in sight; but Mr. Fen- 
iiimore was rapidly ‘sinking. After dinner, the 
party of singers had just finished the last line 
of “ I would not live alway,’^ when Larry whis¬ 
pered that a sudden change had come over the 
sufferer. I went to his berth. His face was 
calm and placid as the sleep of an infant. He had 
passed away. The last sweet strains of earthly 
music which soothed his mortal sense had been 
mingled with those of angelic choirs, as this 
mortal put on immortality. In spite of his great 
crime, I could not but believe that all was well 
witli him, for he had thrown himself upon the 
mercy of God in Christ, and done all he could to 


90 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

atone for his errors. I closed his e 3 ^es, and 
Blanche sank upon the sofa in a paroxysm of 
grief. 

After a time, her aunt led her away, and the 
chief steward performed the necessary offices 
upon the remains. It was midnight when we 
arrived at Queenstown. An order was sent for¬ 
ward, by a passenger, to Liverpool, for an under¬ 
taker to make the arrangements for conveying the 
remains to Bloomridge, in Staffordshire, where the 
Grimsbys resided. 

Phil, I shall never forget this voyage,’^ said 
Larry, the next day, as the ship was going up the 
Channel. 

■ “ Neither shall I ever forget it,” I replied. I 
expected to have a good time on the passage, but 
it has been one of the saddest seasons of my life.” 

That’s so; and I have been hard at work most 
of the time ; but I must say I am better satisfied 
with myself than I ever was before.” 

‘‘ You have behaved nobl}-, Larr 3 ^” 

Never mind that. I have seen more of life 
than I ever dreamed of before. I have been a 
reckless fellow. I never believed much in reli¬ 
gion, goodness, and such kind of things ; but after 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


91 


following Mr. Fennimore to the end, I have altered 
my mind,’’ said he, very seriously. “ That man 
was miserable beyond anything I ever saw or 
imagined ; and I wouldn’t rob a bank now, even 
if I had as good a chance as he had, though I 
don’t know that I have as much conscience as he 
had.” 

I’m glad to see you taking a reasonable view 
of these things.” 

Reasonable ! See here, Phil,” he added, taking 
a paper from his pocket and unfolding it. 

‘‘ What’s that?” I asked, curiously. 

Look at it; ” and he handed the paper to me. 

It was one of the blank forms of a letter of 
credit, such as I had, with the signature of the 
banking firm upon it. 

“ What of it? ” 1 inquired. 

“ Don’t you remember that paper ? ” 

I don’t particularly remember this one.” 

When you obtained your letter of credit, you 
know the clerk handed out two or three of these 
things.” 

0, yes; 1 remember now; but where did you 
get this ? ” 

While the clerk was filling out your letter, 


92 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I folded tip one of the blanks and put it in my 
pocket/' he replied, looking much ashamed of 
himself. 

‘‘ What for? What use can this empty blank be 
to you ? ” 

None now,” he answered, taking the paper 
from my hand, teai’ing it into small pieces with 
considerable vigor, and then throwing them over¬ 
board. That’s all.” . '., • 

“ I really don’t understand you, Larry,” I added, 
puzzled by his conduct. 

Don’t you ? Then perhaps you give me credit 
for being a better fellow than I am. I shall go 
to work in Liverpool, if I can find a job in a 
printing office ; if not, 1 shall ship for home as a 
common sailor.” 

I have thought your plans were rather loosely 
laid, but I don’t comprehend you yet.” 

You are a little thick, Phil, in some things. 
You have saved me from— Well, I don’t know 
what you have saved me from.” 

I am not aware that I have saved you from 
anything.” 

“ Yes, you have; you haven’t preached much at 
me ; if you had, it would have done me no good. 
But you have hit me all the harder.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


93 


“ Tell me what mean.’’ 

I intended to fill out that blank, draw the 
money on it, and have a good time in Europe for 
a 3 "ear or two,” he replied, desperately, as if the 
confession was too shameful to be made. 

I understood him then. 


04 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 




CHAPTER VIT. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND HIS FRIEND VISIT GRIMSBY HALL, 
AND ARE PRESENT AT A MELANCHOLY OCCASION. 

M y motto from the beginning had been, 
Upward and Onward.” Perhaps I onglit 
not to say it, but I had distinctly set before 
myself the purpose of becoming a good and true 
man, whatever else 1 wuis. 1 made mistakes, 
many and grievous ones, but I tried to do my 
duty. I had always been ^afraid of evil com¬ 
panions, and, as 1 have before remarked, 1 did not 
like the character of Larry Grimsby. He had no 
hig]i aims, no moral principle, to guide and control 
his life. But, whatever he had said, I did not 
believe him capable of the crime he confessed to 
have meditated. 

The blank letter of credit was signed by the 
banking firm. But filling it out and “uttering” 
it were no less a crime than if he had added the 



THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


95 


further act of forging the signature of the bankers. 
I understood his plan now. He had expended all 
his money in the purchase of his steamer ticket, 
and he intended to replenish his exchequer to a 
liberal extent by drawing on this letter. Prob¬ 
ably he considered that being with me, who had a 
genuine credit, would remove all doubts in regard 
to his own; indeed, he acknowledged as much to 
me. But he had destroyed the blank, and an¬ 
nounced his intention of going to work, or return¬ 
ing to New York. 

“ I did not think you would do such a thing,’’ I 
said, sadly. 

“ 1 knew I would, if I got a good chance. But 
that’s all gone by now. After witnessing the 
sufferings of poor Mr. Fennimore, I would starve 
leather than do such a thing. I don’t like cant, 
Phil, but my eyes have been opened. I would 
give all my old boots, if I had any, to be half as 
good as you are, my boy.” 

1 hope you will try to be better than I am.” 

That’s humbug, Phil. You know you are 
a saint.” 

1 know that I am a sinner, but I am trying to 
do right; that is all I can say tor myself.” 


96 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Never mind, Phil: I don’t believe you are a 
hypocrite. If you had been, you couldn’t have 
done so much for poor Mr. Fennimore. Wliy, you 
lifted him right up, and made a new man of him. 
I believe there is something in religion now. I 
never thought there was before. I’m going to 
try to be a better fellow.” 

If you try, 1 know you will succeed. You 
have a good heart, with noble and generous emo¬ 
tions. You are entirely unselfish, and are willing 
to wear yourself out in the service of others.” 

“ Thank you, Phil. I always mean to stand 
by a fellow as long as there is anything left 
of him.” 

‘‘ All you need is a high moral and religious 
principle.” 

I intend to look into that matter,” said he, 
thoughtfully. ‘‘But I suppose v/e must part as 
soon as we land.” 

“ I hope not,” I replied. 

“Of course we must; I haven’t ten shillings in 
the world.” 

“ 0, I shall be glad to help you out,” I added, 
warmly. 

“ No, Phil; you have done enough for me; but 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


97 


the biggest thing you did was to save me from 
filling out that blank.” 

‘‘ But I have not done half so much for you as 
you have for me.” 

“ There, there; no more of that. I don’t want 
any of your gratitude.” 

“ Yet that was precisely in your own strain. 
Here are ten sovereigns, Larry; and I won’t say 
another word about what you have done for me, 
unless you introduce the subject yourself.” 

‘‘ 1 won’t take them,” said he, doubtfully, but 
evidently tempted to do so. 

“ You must! Would you compel me to leave a 
good fellow alone in a foreign land without any 
money in his pocket, when I have plenty ? ” 

‘‘As a loan, Phil, I will take this mone}^, for I 
feel that I need it; but I solemnly assure you 
that, if I ever pay any debt before I pay the debt 
of nature, this shall be the first one,” replied 
Larry, as he slipped the gold into his pocket. 

“ Don’t distress yourself about it, my dear fellow.” 

Certainly there was enough of good in Larry 
Grimsby to redeem him from the evil, which he 
hardly attempted to conceal, but rather made an 
affectation of displaying. 

7 


98 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


‘‘ I don’t think I shall distress myself about any¬ 
thing; but I am more likely to obtain a job in 
London than in Liverpool. I believe your great 
philosopher, Franklin, was tolerably successful 
there in my line.” 

We hardly saw Blanche Fennimore during the 
day, for she remained with her aunt in the state¬ 
room. It was after midnight when the steamer 
anchored in the Mersey, and few of the passengers 
went ashore in the boat which came off for the 
mails and those who desired to land at once. At 
breakfast Blanche came to the table, the very 
picture of misery. Larry and I waited in the 
saloon till she was ready to leave. 

I. suppose we must part here. Miss Fennimore,” 
I began, as we met her at the door. 

“ Part ? ” she replied. 

^^We go direct to London.” 

‘‘You will not leave me now. You must go to 
Bloomridge with us,” she added, in pleading tones. 
“ You were so kind to my poor father and to me, 
that I cannot endure the thought of parting with 
you. I hope you will attend my father’s funeral. 
I am sure he would have desired it.” 

“ We did not know what arrangements had 



THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


99 


been made, and we have not considered the sub¬ 
ject,” I answered. 

“ Let me speak with my aunt about the matter,” 
said she. 

She followed her aunt below, and presently 
Miles Grimsby came to us with an invitation to 
spend the time till after the funeral at Bloomridge. 
Though I was in a hurry to reach Italy, I felt 
obliged to accept the invitation, out of regard to 
the feelings of poor Blanche. 

The undertaker had come on board early in the 
morning, and the remains of Mr. Fennimore, now 
placed in a coffin, were conveyed to the tug- 
steamer. We went on board with Blanche and the 
Grimsbys, and repaired directly to the Lime Street 
station; but we were obliged to wait an hour for 
the train. This afforded me time to attend to the 
last wishes of the deceased; and I had written a 
letter on board the steamer to the president of the 
Lowerville Bank, whose address I had been care¬ 
ful to obtain of Mr. Fennimore, detailing the 
events which had occurred on the passage. I 
begged him, for the sake of Blanche, to let the 
matter rest without further exposure, since the 
deceased had made all the reparation in his power. 


100 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Taking a cab, I drove to the bankers upon whom 
my letter of credit was issued, and purchased a 
bill for the full amount intrusted to me by Mr. 
Fennimore. This 1 sent in my letter, instructing 
the bankers to forward the duplicates, wliich they 
promised to do. I posted the precious document, 
and felt that I had discharged a sacred duty. 

Where have you been, Phil ? ” asked Larry, 
when I returned to the station. 

To the bankers.’’ 

“ You robbed yourself when you loaned me the 
ten pounds.” 

“ Not at all; I did not go to draw money; ” and 
I explained to him what had transpired between 
Mr. Fennimore and myself in regard ^to the stolen 
money. 

Send it all back ! ” exclaimed he, with no little 
astonishment. 

Every penny of it — about fifty thousand 
dollars.” 

“You didn’t say anything to me about this.” 

“ No; it was a matter between Mr. Fennimore 
and myself; and I thought it had better remain so 
until the business was finished.” 

“ You were afraid I would steal the money if I 
knew you had it. I don’t blame you; but — ” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


101 


I was not afraid you would steal it, and my 
course saved all argument on the subject. I did 
not know but you might think it your duty to 
speak to Blanche or the Grimsbys about the 
money, and thus complicate the matter.” 

Of course I should not have said anything 
to them.” 

‘‘You miglit have spoken of the money without 
mentioning the crime.” 

“ No, I should not. I might have done it a 
week ago, but not three days ago. After Mr. 
Fennimore had ruined himself to obtain this 
money, his daughter has not a penny to- show 
for it.” 

“ No; but her father died in peace, after he had 
given me tlie money, and instructed me to restore 
it to the rightful owners. That is something to 
show for giving it up — isn’t it ? ” 

“ I think it is; and you are right, Phil, as you 
always are; but I am sorry for poor Blanche, 
without a red to help herself with.” 

“ Her English friends are wealthy, and she will 
never want for anything,” I replied. 

It was late in the day when^ we arrived at 
Bloomridge, and took carriages for Grimsby Hall, 


102 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


a mile from the station. Mrs. Grimsby and Miles 
were warmly welcomed by the family. Blanche 
was very kindly, and even tenderly, received, for 
her bereaved condition excited all the sympathies 
of her friends. After all these welcomes had been 
given, and condolences extended, Larry and my¬ 
self were introduced. The family consisted of Sir 
Philip Grimsby, and his son Miles, who dwelt 
beneath the paternal roof with his wife, his son 
Miles, and two daughters. 

I had never before seen a live baronet, and I 
was deeply impressed by his appearance, but 
more by the fact that he was a baronet. He was 
rather stiff and haughty in his manners at first, 
and I regarded him with much deference and 
humiliation. But Larry did not seem to be awed 
in the slightest degree, when his turn came to be 
presented to the old gentleman. 

Eh! ” exclaimed the baronet, ste{)ping back, 
as my friend advanced, in order to survey his 
features more closely. What did you say the 
name was. Miles ? ” he added, turning to his 
grandson. 

'' Mr. Grimsby,'' replied Miles, apparently 
amused at the manner of his grandfather. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


103 


‘‘Grimsby I Upon my life, he looks like one 
of us ! ’’ added Sir Philip. “ Pm glad to see you, 
Mr. Grimsby.*’ 

“ Thank you, sir,” replied Larry, stepping for¬ 
ward, and extending his hand — a familiarity in 
which I had not ventured to indulge. 

The baronet took the offered hand, but he still 
continued to regard with the closest scrutiny the 
face of my friend. 

“ He looks like 3 ^ou, Miles,” added he. “ But 
upon my life, he looks more like your uncle that 
died. Will you oblige me with your given name, 
Mr. Grimsby?” 

“ I’m generally" called Lariy, sir.” 

“ But that’s a nickname.” 

“ It certainl}^ labors under that imputation.” 

For what is Larry a nickname, sir ? ” asked 
Sir Philip. 

“ For Lawrence, sir. I was entered on the 
steamer’s passenger list as Lawrence Grimsby,” 
replied Larry, with easy assurance. 

‘‘ Lawrence Grimsb^^! ” exclaimed the baronet, 
dropping into a chair, as if overcome by some un¬ 
explained emotion. 

But he soon appeared to become conscious that 


104 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


he was acting in an unusual manner, and rose 
from his chair. 

“ Gentlemen, you are welcome to Grimsby Hall. 
We dine at six. Breck, show the gentlemen the 
rooms prepared for them,’’ he added, turning to a 
servant. 

Each of our apartments, which were connected, 
was large enough for a ball-room, and furnished in 
a heavy, subs-tantial, old-fashioned style. Breck 
bowed low to us, but he was as solemn as an owl. 
He suggested all sorts of wants, some of which 
we could not understand in our republican sim¬ 
plicity, and we declined everything. He told us 
that the remains of Mr. Fennimore had been 
placed in the chapel, and that the funeral must 
take place the next day. Then he was considerate 
enough to leave us. I opened my trunk, and put 
on my best suit of black; but when 1 found that 
Larry was unable to make any change in his ward¬ 
robe, I resumed my travelling suit. My friend, 
however, looked very well, but he was certainly 
in no condition to attend a funeral. We were 
dressed just in time for dinner. A chaplain said 
grace at the table, and the affair was very formal 
to me. Little was said, and everybody seemed to 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


105 


be in sympathy with poor Blanche. More than once 
I saw the baronet gazing earnestly at Larry, wlio 
sat opposite me; and he, in his turn, looked at 
Blanche, who was at my side, as much as politeness 
would justify, perhaps more. 

After dinner, I suggested to Larry that we 
should walk down to Bloomridge, which, near the 
station, Avas densely peopled. The baronet insisted 
that we should take a ‘‘ dog cart,” and Ave were 
forced to comply. The man drove us to the sta¬ 
tion, Avhere Ave found a clothing store. 

“ Now, Larry, you must have a full suit of 
black,” said I. 

I can’t afford it,” he promptly replied. 

But here in England you Avould be considered 
as utterly Avanting in respect for the living and the 
dead if you should appear at a funeral in that rig.” 

I can’t help it.” 

You are just my size ; let me buy a suit, and if 
you don’t Avant it after the funeral, 1 Avill take it 
off your hands.” 

1 carried my point. The tailor had a coat made 
for another person, whom he was willing to dis¬ 
appoint if he could sell an additional garment, 
Avhich Avas just a fit for my friend. We could find 


106 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


neither pants nor vests to match it, and the tailor 
agreed to make new ones by ten o’clock the next 
day. We assented, and I paid half the price of 
the suit, which was three pounds, and we returned 
to the hall after purchasing such other articles as 
we needed. 

This is cutting it rather fat for a fellow like 
me,” said Larry. 

Or me either,” I replied. 

You are not exactly a vagabond, as I am. You 
have plenty of money.” 

It is only by accident that we are here. We 
shall be off in a day or two.” 

I don’t feel in a hurry to go. In a word, I 
shall feel very lonely when I can see Blanche no 
more,” said Larry, sadly. 

“ Has it come to that ? ” 

I told you I was smitten the first time I saw 
her. Ton my word, I think she is an angel.” 

. We talked of this matter for half an hour, and 
v/ere then invited to the drawing-room. Blanche 
was there for a short time, but it was a very 
solemn assembly, and we retired early. Punctual¬ 
ly at tlie appointed hour, the black suit came from* 
the tailor’s, and I paid the balance of the bill. 



THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


107 


The funeral was to be at twelve, and we dressed 
for the occasion. Larry looked like another per¬ 
son in his sombre suit of black, with kid gloves of 
the same color. He seemed to have got rid of the 
rowdy element in his appearance, and looked like 
a sober and sedate young man. We attended the 
funeral of Mr. Fennimore, which was solemnized 
at a neighboring church. Though I was properly 
impressed by the religious services, the grief of 
poor Blanche was the moving element of the'occa¬ 
sion to me. The remains of Mr. Fennimore were 
placed in a tomb, to be sent to America, there to 
be finally interred by the side of his wife. Sadly 
we returned to Grimsby Hall, and Sir Philip made 
an effort to restore some of tlie cheerfulness which 
had usually pervaded his mansion; but Blanche 
was hardly less gloomy than before. We spent a 
quiet evening in the drawing-room; but at ten 
o’clock the baronet desired to see Larry and my¬ 
self in his library, and we promptly obeyed the 


summons. 


108 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER VIII. 


IN AVHICH PHIL SHOWS THAT HE HAS A TALENT FOR 
KEEPING STILL, AND LARRY BECOMES A HERO. 

P HIE library of the baronet’s mansion "was in 



-J- keeping with the rest of the building, and 
antique carved book-cases were suitable for ex¬ 
hibition in the Hotel de Cluny, in Paris. The 
family of Sir Philip was older than the book-cases, 
and the talkative Breck, wdio did duty in our 
chambers as valet, so far as we were able to use 
the services of such a functionary, had told me 
that it was even more noted for its wealth than for 
its antiquity. 

When we entered the library the baronet was 
Avalking up and down the apartment, apparently 
studying the figui-es in the carpet. I had no 
suspicion whatever of his object in sending for us. 
His manner had been somewhat strange, and I had 
often discovered him gazing at the lace of my 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


109 


companion. Even in the church I had observed 
that he paid more attention to Larry than to the 
service, which certainly was not proper in a good 
churchman ; but he was entirely excusable in the 
light of subsequent events. Sir Philip did not 
appear to notice us when we entered. A small 
fire of soft coal was blazing cheerfully in the 
grate, and his path was up and down in front of it. 
We walked up to a position opposite the grate, 
and stopped where he must pass us on his return 
from the farther end of the room. 

“ The old gentleman has something on his 
mind,” whispered Larry. 

What can he want with us ? ” I asked. 

I don’t know.” 

“ I think he wants to know’ where you obtained 
his name, especially as you look so much like his 
grandson,” I suggested. 

If he does I am in the dark on that subject. 
Here he comes again.” 

The baronet halted when he saw us, and fixed 
an earnest gaze on my companion. 

“Young man,” said he, compressing his lips 
after he had uttered the words, and then indul¬ 
ging in a long and trying pause. 


no 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I’m at your service, sir,” replied Larry, 
politely. 

“ Young man, if I should die to-night — ” And 
then he paused again, as though he had something 
awfully impressive to say. 

I sincerely hope you will not die to-night. Sir 
Philip,” added Larry. If you do, sir, I am afraid 
I could not remain to attend the funeral.” 

Yes, you would remain a week to attend my 
funeral, and not leave even after you had seen me 
comfortably buried.” 

Perhaps I should. Sir Philip. I really hope 
you will live many years. You have a fine place 
here, and I should say that you had every means 
of enjoying yourself,” answered my friend, with 
easy assurance. “ I hope you will live till you 
are a hundred.” 

“Very likely you will change your mind after 
you know more about yourself and me,” added 
the baronet, evidently pleased with the answers 
of Larry. 

I don’t think so. Sir Philip. I’m a lieggar 
myself; but I don’t envy any man, v/oman, or 
child on the face of the footstool. I have as good 
a time as I can in the world, and I like to see 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


Ill 


other people e*njoy themselves, even if they are 
lords, and baronets, and dukes.’’ 

That’s kind of you, and the lords, dukes, and 
baronets ought to be obliged to you for your con¬ 
sideration,” added Sir Philip, chuckling at his own 
humor, rather than at his guest’s. ‘‘ Young man, 
if I should die to-night — ” And then the baronet 
was very serious again, making another long 
pause in this place, apparently for the purpose of 
composing the muscles of his face. 

“ I am serious, Sir Philip, when I say again that 
I trust you will not die to-night,” added Larry, 
who perhaps thought that the pause was intended 
for his benefit, and to afford him an opportunity to 
say something. 

“ Young man, if I should die to-night — ” 

The baronet paused again, and I observed that 
he was much agitated, though he labored to sup¬ 
press his emotion. I elbowed Larry, and passing 
behind him, I told him in a whisper to say noth¬ 
ing ; and he was silent this time. Sir Philip’s lips 
worked as he struggled to keep down his emotion, 
and 1 thought he had some doubts as to whether 
or not he should utter what was upon his mind. 

“ Young man, if 1 should die to-night, in the 


112 


BIVOUAC AND BATTT.E, OR 


morning you would be Sir Lawrence Grimsby/^ 
continued the baronet, finishing the sentence this 
time as with a desperate effort. 

As soon as he had uttered the astounding 
sentence, lie turned and marched rapidly toAvards 
the fiirther end of the room. 

Here’s a go ! ” said Larry, glancing at me, Avith 
a queer smile on his face. ‘‘ The old gentleman 
has a Aveak spot in his head, or else he means to 
get up a thundering sensation.” 

He is in earnest,” I replied. You saAV his 
emotion.” 

I did; but Fm afraid the old gentleman is 
crazy. Of course Avhat he says is all bosh,” 
laughed Larry. 

Perhaps not; let us Avait and hear the con¬ 
clusion of the Avhole matter.” 

My friend certainly took the astounding an¬ 
nouncement with the utmost coolness. For my 
OAvn part, I kneAv not what to make of it, though 
of course I could not help thinking of Larry’s 
Avonderful resemblance to Miles Grimsby, and the 
fact that he bore the family name of the baronet. 
Sir Philip continued to Avalk the room, leaving us 
in a very awkward and embarrassing situation. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


113 


and we impatiently waited for the development of 
his humor. In a few moments he dropped into a 
large arm-chair at the side of the grate. 

“ Sit down,’^ said he, pointing to a couple of 
chairs opposite him. 

“ Thank you, sir,” replied Larry, as he obeyed 
the command, and I followed his example. 

‘‘ What’s your name ? ” demanded Sir Philip, 
brusquely. 

‘‘ Lawrence Gidmsby,” replied Larry, in the 
same quick business tones. 

“ Where did you get that name ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t know, sir.” 

“ Who are your parents ? ” 

I don’t know, sir.” 

Where were you born?” 

‘‘ I don’t know, sir.” 

How old are you ? ” 

I don’t know, sir.” 

“Do you know anything?” 

“ I do, sir.” 

“What?” 

“ That you are a very singular old baronet. Sir 
Philip.” 

“ Good ! Upon my life, you are rathor more 
8 


114 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


than half right,” chuckled the baronet, as he rose 
and rung the bell, which was instantly answered 
b}^ Breck. 

Champagne,” said the old gentleman, laconical¬ 
ly, as the man appeared and disappeared almost in 
the same instant. Yes, Pm a queer old fellow; 
but Pm not a bad man.” 

“ You bet! ” 

Sir ? ” interrogated the baronet, evidently un¬ 
able to comprehend Larry’s western Americanism. 

‘‘ You remarked. Sir Philip, tliat you are not a 
bad man. You can bet on that,” explained Larry ; 
and I confess that his easy familiarity shocked and 
alarmed me. . 

“ I can repeat with unction the words of the 
Litany, and call myself a miserable sinner, and 
upon my life I believe it. I have left undone 
those things which I ought to have done, and I 
have done those things which I ought not to have 
done,” added the baronet, more seriously. 

“ That’s just what Phil says, though not exactly 
in those words,” added Larry, glibly. 

Pray, who’s Phil ? ” 

''Mr. Farringford here, sir. He is about the 
only real friend I have in the world, and he’s a 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


115 


right down good fellow — pious, too. He has 
opened my eyes wider in a week than I ever 
could get them in my whole lifetime before.” 

Never mind Phil now,” said the baronet, 
rather petulantly. 

lie is not a cipher. Sir Philip.” 

“ I have no fault to find with him. I may say 
that I am very glad to find you in the company of 
so estimable a young gentleman ; but we will speak 
of something else.” 

I desire to be entirely ignored, sir; and if 
you wish, I will leave the room,” I interposed. 

“Not necessary, Mr. Farringford. You seem to 
have a talent for holding your tongue; and I have 
no doubt you will be able to keep to yourself 
whatever we wish to conceal.” 

“ 1 will betray no one’s confidence,” I replied. 

“ All right, Phil; don’t leave me,” added Larry. 

“ lie need not leave you, Lawrence,” said Sir 
Philip. “ Now we will attend to business.” 

“ Precisely so, sir. You were saying — ” 

“ Hold up ! the champagne comes,” interposed 
the old gentleman, checking Larry’s remark, as 
Breck entered the room with a bottle and several 
glasses on a salver. 


116 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


The well-trained servant deposited the tray on a 
table, and then popped the bottle of champagne. 
Filling three glasses, he placed them on a small 
salver, and passed them first to me. 

“ No, I thank you; none for me,” I replied. 

No champagne ! ” exclaimed the baronet. 

No, sir; I never drink anything that can 
intoxicate,” I replied. 

“ Champagne don’t intoxicate, any more than 
goat’s milk,” added Sir Philip. 

Excuse me, sir; but I never drink it,” I an¬ 
swered, embarrassed at the situation, for I knew 
something of the requirements of English hospital¬ 
ity, thougli 1 did not think they ought to compel 
me to make a fool or a sot of myself. 

Breck presented the salver to Larry. 

“ I must beg to be excused, also,” he replied, 
somewhat to my surprise. 

“ No champagne, Lawrence ! ” said Sir Philip, 
with a slight frown. 

“ None, sir; I follow Phil’s lead now. At any 
rate, I’m going to try on his temperance principles 
for a while.” 

“ Suit yourselves, young gentlemen,” added the 
baronet, impatiently. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


117 


Breck passed the salver to him, and he took his 
glass. The servant then placed the table at the 
side of his master, on which he put the tray, with 
the bottle upon it, adjusting the cork, so as to 
prevent the effervescence as much as possible of 
its contents. 

“ Mr. Miles is in the drawing-room, sir; and the 
ladies have all retired,’’ said Breck, as he finished 
with careful precision the arrangements which 
were plainly an every-day routine with him. 

Give him my good night, and bid him retire, 
also,” replied the baronet. 

Breck was evidently dissatisfied with this decis¬ 
ion, and I concluded that Miles was in the habit 
of visiting the library in the later part of the even¬ 
ing, and probably drank champagne with his 
grandfather; but the man was too well trained 
to say anything more, and retired at once. 

If I should die to-night, you would be Sir 
Lawrence Grimsby in the morning,” said the 
baronet again, as he drained his glass. Now 1 
dare say you are willing I should finish this bottle 
alone, and even send for another, for with your tee¬ 
total principles, you believe it will help me off.” 

If I knew I should attain to the distinguished 


118 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


position yon suggest, Sir Philip, I should still ask 
my friend Phil to pray that yon might live to be 
eighty, at least; I don’t pray myself.” 

“ I don’t believe it, you rascal! When you 
know me more, you will love me less.” 

“ I hope not. Sir Philip; but of course I can’t 
tell,” answered Larry, with refreshing candor. 

No, you don’t hope not,” added the baronet, as 
he filled and drank off another glass of champagne. 

I’m bound to say I shouldn’t love a man if he 
wasn’t a good fellow, even though he was a baro¬ 
net. A man might be a baronet and still be a 
rascal; but I don’t believe you are anything of 
the sort.” 

Upon my life, I believe I am I ” 

Upon my soul, I believe you are not.” 

Don’t be so rude, Larry,” I said in a whisper. 

‘‘ Let him speak his mind, Mr. Farringford; I 
like it,” interposed Sir Philip; and I subsided 
at once. 

I can’t very well help saying just what I 
think,” continued Larry. 

‘‘ Good ! 1 knew another young fellow who was 

just as blunt and independent,” replied Sir Philip, 
with more emotion than I could explain. 




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Baronet’s Library. Page 119 










































































































































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


119 


Who was he, sir ? ” asked Larry. 

Take off your coat, Lawrence,’’ said the old 
gentleman, sharply. 

My friend promptly sprang to his fe.et at this 
singular command, but paused, and glanced at the 
bcFronet, as if to ascertain w'hether he was in 
earnest. 

Off with it,” said the baronet, making a gesture 
of impatience. 

Larry quickly took off his black coat, and tossed 
it into his chair. 

Roll up your shirt-sleeve on the left arm,” con¬ 
tinued Sir Philip, much excited, as be rose from 
his chair. 

Larry complied. 

Turn round to the light. There it is I ” 

The baronet dropped back into his chair. 

What is it ? ” asked Larry. Do you mean my 
raspberry ? ” 

The red mark on your left arm. It is about 
the size and color of a red raspberry,” replied the 
old gentleman, struggling to be calm, and suc¬ 
ceeding tolerably well. Did you ever see it 
before, Lawrence ? ” 

To be sure I have. I remember that mark as 
long as I can remember anything.” 


120 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Let me see it again,” added Sir Philip, rising 
and taking a musty letter from the writing-table. 

I can’t see ; read, Mr. Farringford, from the top 
of the third page.” 

“ ^ The vaccination mark is one inch lower, and 
half an inch nearer the body, than the reddish spot, 
which is shaped like a raspberry. I know no — ’ ” 

That’s enough. Let us see if it is so.” 

Both of us compared the marks with the de¬ 
scription. 

“ The measurements are not right; but the child 
has become a man, and they would not remain the 
same,” said Sir Philip. 

‘‘ The relative positions are as described in the 
letter,” I added. 

Precisely; there is no doubt of it; but the 
name and the boy’s features are enough. I am 
satisfied. Lawrence, you are my grandson, beyond 
the possibility of a doubt. Put on your coat.” 

I am very glad to be anybody’s grandson, 
more especially yours, Sir Philip,” answered Larry, 
who was not half so much excited by the remark¬ 
able events of the evening as I was. “ I have 
been a waif all my life, and it is rather jolly to 
think of being picked up by a grandfather; but 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


121 


Pm afraid there’s some mistake. Somebody has 
been getting up a cheap romance at my expense. 
I don’t want to be a hero. I hate the very idea.” 

“ Keep quiet, my boy.” 

“ Don’t attempt to hug me, or an 3 ^thing of that 
sort. If you do, I shall scream like a heroine.” 

“ Don’t disturb yourself; I shall not hug you 
yet; but a mistake is utterly impossible,” added 
the baronet, and he quaffed another glass of wine. 

I will explain it all now.” 

But at that moment there was a knock at the 
door, and Miles Grimsby entered when his grand¬ 
father told him to “ come in.” 


122 


BIVOUAC AND RATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER IX. 

IN WHICH PHIL RELATES THE STORY THE BARONET 
TOLD, AND LARRY MEETS BLANCHE IN THE GARDEN. 


“ 1|TTELL, Miles, what do you want? Didn’t I 

V T send word to you that you might re¬ 
tire ? ” said the baronet, when his grandson 
entered the library. 

You did, sir; but it is very unusual for you to 
send me to bed without bidding me good night; 
and now I have been absent half a year,” replied 
Miles, glancing first at Larry and then at me, as • 
though he feared some conspiracy against him was 
in progress. 

“ You are quite right, Miles, my boy. There; 
give me your hand, boy; good night, and God 
bless you ! ” 

Good night, grandfather,” replied the young 
man; but he did not seem disposed to go. 

The baronet was silent then, and Miles, finding 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


123 


that his presence was a burden, left the room; but 
I saw the flush of anger on his cheek, and he 
slammed the door behind him more violently than 
the occasion required. 

“ Poor fellow! I’m sorry for him,” said Sir 
Philip ; but I must do justice, tardy though it 
be, before God and man. I think the boy suspects 
something.” 

I have no desire to injure Miles, Sir Philip,” 
protested Larry. 

I dare say you have not, Lawrence ; but you 
have put the boy’s nose out of joint: you have, 
indeed, and his father’s, too. As I said before, if I 
should die to-night, yon would be Sir Lawrence 
Grimsby in the morning. I will tell you all about 
it now, and to-morrow I shall go with you before a 
magistrate, and acknowledge you as my grandson.” 

I will give Sir Philip’s story in substance, for 
he elaborated the details much more than is neces¬ 
sary for my present purpose. The baronet was 
now sixty-si?f years old, but he appeared to be 
entirely hale and hearty, though 1 fancied that he 
would go off suddenly before many years, if he 
drank as much wine every night as on the present 
occasion. He had been the father of three sons. 


124 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


the oldest of whom, Philip, was of course the heir 
to the baronet’s title and estates. The name of 
the second son was Lawrence, while the third was 
Miles, the only one at present living. Twenty 
years before, Lawrence had married a poor girl, 
whose only dowry w^as her beauty. Sir Philip 
w^as violently opposed to-this match; for the girl 
was not only penniless, but was the daughter of a 
poor mechanic. He assured his son he would dis¬ 
own and cast him out if he persisted in his dis¬ 
obedience ; but Lawrence was an independent 
young man, and was, withal, so deeply smitten 
with the low-born maiden that he persisted in his 
purpose, and married her. * The baronet was true 
to his promise. He disowned and cast off the 
disobedient son, refusing even to see him, or to 
grant him a penny to supply his wants. 

Lawrence had been brought up to no occupa¬ 
tion, and he could do nothing in England, though 
he remained there until after the birth of his only 
child. He borrowed money enough fo convey his 
little family to New York. He was determined to 
struggle manfully with his hard lot; but he had 
no qualifications for business, and the battle went 
against him. He obtained a small situation as a 




THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 125 

clerk, but was unable even to retain this, and 
actually suffered for the-want of food. For the 
want of the comforts of life his wife died. Then 
he wrote to his father; but the baronet sternly 
refused to heed the touching appeal. Lawrence 
struggled only for a brief period more with the 
rough fortunes of life, and then died himself, and 
wms buried by public charity. While he was sick, 
and only waiting for death to put an end to his 
misery, he wrote again to his father, appealing to 
him this time only for the little child, which had 
already been sent to -the Orphan Asylum. He 
described the boy, so that his father’s agent might 
identify him, and was careful that he should bear 
his own name. 

This letter touched the heart of Sir Philip, and 
he privately sent an agent to look up the father 
and the child. The former was dead and in his 
grave, and the agent was unable to find the latter. 
In the mean time another grief had come to soften 
the heart of the baronet. His oldest son was 
killed by a fall from his horse in a fox hunt. 
Philip, this son, had -died unmarried, though he 
was engaged to the daughter of a peer at the 
time of the fatal accident. A second attempt was 


126 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


made to find the son of Lawrence, but without any 
better success. Miles, the third son, had married 
a daughter of Sir Hale Groveland, Knight, and 
was the father of several children, of whom Miles 
was the oldest, and at the death of his father 
would have been the heir of the title and estates, 
if my friend Larry had not stepped between him 
and his apparent destiny. Mr^ Fennimore had 
married another daughter of Sir Hale Grove- 
land, which explained the connection between the 
families. 

“ Do you understand it tiow, Lawrence ? ’’ asked 
the baronet, as he finished his recital. 

Perfectly, sir; the matter is double leaded, 
with a pica fist before it. Your first son, Philip, 
who was the heir of the title and its appendages, 
is dead. My father came next,” replied Larry. 

‘‘Yes, my boy; for Philip died without issue. 
Then, as your father is dead, you come next.” 

“Just so; and Miles is left out in the cold.” 

“ Of course I shall take care of him and his 
father, in my will; but the bulk of my property 
goes to you, Lawrence.” 

“Well, sir, I hope you will not have occasion to 
part with it for a good many years. But I desire 
to make an even thing of it.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


127 


Impossible ! exclaimed the baronet. 

As for the title, Miles senior and his son may- 
have that. I wouldn’t turn my hand for it,” added 
Larry, with easy indifference. 

It can’t be done. These things are all fixed 
by the laws and customs of England, and must not 
be set aside. It is a new matter to you now, and 
you will change your mind in regard to the title in 
a few months, or weeks.” 

- Perhaps I shall.” 

If I live till to-morrow, I shall arrange every¬ 
thing. In the mean time, not a word must be said 
about this business. I don’t wish to stir up my 
son and grandson yet; and I want time to look the 
matter over. Now you may retire, my boys.”' 

I was going to London, to-morrow, with Phil,”* 
said Larry. 

Go with him, if you like. I would rather have 
you out of the way for a few weeks.” 

Right, Sir Philip. I would like to take a run 
on the continent, and see a little of the world 
there, but I don’t happen to have the needful.” 

Do you mean money ? ” 

That’s exactly what I mean ; and that has been 
the one thing needful to me all my life.” 


128 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


‘‘ You shall not want for money, if fifty thousand 
pounds will supply your needs/’ 

I don’t want fifty thousand pounds; only —let 
me see — eleven or twelve thousand, at present,” 
replied Larry, lightly. 

You shall have it to-morrow morning, if you 
desire.” 

I do desire it very much indeed. Ten thou¬ 
sand pounds would do me more good than any¬ 
thing else in the world. I would rather have it 
than be an earl or a duke.” 

‘‘You shall have it; though it is rather a large 
sum for a boy; but I am willing to make up for 
the past with you. Now, go to your rooms. I 
am tired.” 

We went to our chambers. I was amazed at the 
coolness and self-possession of my friend. I was 
excited myself, but he was not. 

“ You are the strangest mortal I ever saw, 
Larry ! ” I exclaimed, as we dismissed the valet, 
and 1 closed the door behind him. 

“ I know it,” replied he, with a light laugh. 
“ ’Pon my word, you speak only the truth, as you 
always do, Phil.” 

“ You don’t seem to be the least moved or 
excited at your remarkably good fortune.” 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


129 


“ The fact is, Phil, I have always had a feeling 
that I was born for something of this kind, and I 
am not much surprised at what has occurred.” 

I am. Yesterday you were a vagabond ; to¬ 
day, the heir of one of the richest houses m 
England.” 

I shall be able to pay you the little sum I bor¬ 
rowed of you now, Phil.” 

Never mind that. I think you are a modest 
young man, Larry, most astoundingly so. What in 
tlie world did you mean by asking Sir Philip for 
eleven or twelve thousand pounds.” 

I have a pressing need for that little sum.” 

“ Are you mad ? Do you know how much you 
asked for? ” 

I think I do — eleven or twelve thousand 
pounds.” 

Between fifty and sixty thousand dollars! ” 

Just so; I had arithmetic enough to figure 
that out.” 

But you cannot mean it.” 

Ton my word I do — every penny of it.” 

“ No, you don’t; you can’t use it. Two or three 
thousand dollars is all you need to spend on the 
continent, even if you travel like a prince.” 

9 


130 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I don’t want it for that. I want ten thousand 
of it for quite another purpose. Draw near to 
me, Phil; open your ears, and listen to me. ‘ lie 
that hath ears to hear, let him hear.’ I set that 
up once, as the text of a sermon, Avhich explains 
how 1 happen to remember it. Do you know Miss 
Blanche Fennimore ? ” 

“ Of course 1 do.” 

“ So do I. Possibly you may know that her 
father got into some sort of difficulty with the bank 
at Lowerville,” continued Larry, very seriously. 

“ Certainly I do; you are aware that I am 
in possession of all the facts,” I answered, im¬ 
patiently. 

“ Probably Blanche has no suspicion that her 
father was anything but an honest, upright 
man.” 

We are certain that she knows nothing about 
the crime of her father.” 

According to your Christian logic, Phil, the 
first thing a man should do to atone for his crime 
is to make all the reparation in his power.” 

“ To be sure ; and Mr. Fennimore did all that 
was in his power.” 

Well, I propose to do what it was not in his 


THF STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


131 


power to do ; in other words, to make good the 
rest of his defalcation. How is that for high ? ” 
Why should you do such a tiling?’^ I asked, 
amazed at this proposition. 

“ Not for my own sake, I grant, but for 
Blanche’s. If she should ever learn that her 
father’s fingers were greasy in the money-bags, 
don’t you think she would feel better about it 
if she knew that every red had been restored to 
the bank?” 

Certainly she would ; but I do not see that 
you are called upon to do such a romantic deed,” 
I replied. 

‘^Romantic—is it?” laughed Larry. Well, 
perhaps it is. Who knows? Fm not much on 
romance; but if the baronet ponies up the rocks, I 
shall pay every red that Blanche’s father stole or 
owed. Phil, 1 love that girl.” 

“You are smitten, I know; but don’t hurry 
about the matter.” 

“ Hurry? I’m up to my ears now. You might 
as well attempt to check Niagara as a thing of this 
kind. I’ve got it bad, Phil.” 

“ I’m sorry for you, Lart-y.” 

“ You needn’t be. I’m no longer a vagabond. 


132 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


and the case looks hopeful to me now, thoiig’h it 
never did before.” 

“ You are getting tame and commonplace now, 
and I think we had better turn in.” 

It seemed incredible to me, but Larry was 
snoring in ten minutes more ; yet I must do him 
the justice to say that he snored onl}^ when he 
was very tired. Ho had slept very little during 
the voyage, and neither the thought of Blanche, 
nor of the good fortune that had so suddenly over¬ 
taken him, could keep him awake. I agreed with 
him in considei ing his case a very hopeful one; 
for the heart of the fair girl was filled with grati¬ 
tude to him for his care of her father. Of course 
she had not thought of love ; but she was kindly 
disposed towards him. 

We did not get up very early the next morning. 
Attached to the Hall was a beautiful garden, in 
which Larry and I walked before breakfast. On a 
rustic bridge across the brook that wandered 
through the garden we met Blanche. She was 
very sad; but she smiled when she saw us, and 
extended her hand to both. 

I suppose we must leave you to-day. Miss Fen- 
nimore,” said Larry, as w-e walked along together. 


The Meeting in the Garcen. Page 132. 






































































































































































































































































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Till- STRUGGLES OF A SOI.DIER. 


133 


So soon ? 

V/e have alread}’ staid longer than we in¬ 
tended,’^ I added. “ Perhaps we may never see 
you again.” 

Do not say that; I am sure I should be very 
unhappy if I believed I were never again to see 
such good friends as you have been to me — and 
my father,” she answered, with much emotion. 

Do come to Grimsby Hall when you return from 
the continent; for I am to stay with my aunt this 
summer, and perhaps longer.” 

I shall certainly come again, whether Mr. Far- 
riiigford does or not,” said Larry. 

“ I shall be so glad to sec you ! But I hope you 
will both come. I shall be so lonely, now that he 
is gone ! ” she replied, her voice choking as she 
thoinrht of her father. I shall never think of 
him without thinking of you.” 

If. I never see you again, I never shall for¬ 
get you,” continued Larry; and after this re¬ 
mark, I thought I had better drop a reason¬ 
able distance behind them, though I knew that 
my friend had too much good sense to make 
a “ declaration ” at such a time, and under such 
circumstances. 


134 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


My plan was assisted by Miles, who presently 
joined me from a by-path. I saw that he was 
troubled, but I hoped he would not speak to me 
about our conference with Sir Philip. 

I hear you are off to-day, Phil,’’ said he. 

Yes, we go to London by the noon train.” 

‘‘And where then are you going?” 

“I go to Nice, by the way of Paris and Mar¬ 
seilles.” 

“ But there is going to be a bloody big row in 
Italy this summer.” 

“ For that reason I am in haste to find my 
mother before the war breaks up the travel.” 

“ Perhaps you won’t mind telling me what you 
were talking about with Sir Philip last night,” 
said he, after a short pause. 

“ I would rather Sir Philip should tell you him¬ 
self, if he thinks proper,” I replied. 

“ You won’t tell me, then ? ” 

“I do not feel at liberty to do so 'without your 
gran d fath e r ’ s p e rmi s s i on. ” 

“ You needn’t trouble yourself. I know now.^” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“ I do, indeed.” 

“ The matter does not concern me, and I have 
nothing to say or do about it.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


135 


“ By the noon train/’ said he. “ I am going up 
to London at the same time.” 

We should be happy to have your compan3\” 
Thanks; ” and without another word he turned 
into a side-path, and disappeared. 

His conduct appeared very singular to me. 


136 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER X. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY GO TO LONDON, AND 
MILES GRIMSBY IS VERY MUCH EXCITED. 

f ^HE actions of Miles Grimsby were not easy 



a to explain. He told me bluntly thad he knew 
the subject of the conversation with the baronet 
in tlie library ; but I did not see how this was 
possible, even if he had so far lost his self respect 
as to become an eavesdropper; for the fireplace, 
near which we sat, was too far from the door to 
permit a listener to hear what was said. Of 
course he knew the story of his uncle Lawrence, 
and I concluded that he simply suspected the 
relation of my friend to him. 1 did not see Larry 
again till we met at the breakfast table. What¬ 
ever the nature of the interview between him and 
Miss Fennimore, there was nothing in her look 
to indicate that anything unusual had occurred, 
tliough I did think- my friend was more cheerful. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


137 


After the meal, we went with the baronet to a 
magistrate, a gentleman of distinction, and, I at 
once inferred; an intimate friend of Sir Philip. 

“Here he is. Sir John,” said the baronet, in¬ 
dicating Larry with a nod of his head. 

“ Impossible I ” exclaimed the magistrate, with a 
promptness which showed that this was not the 
first time the subject had been mentioned. “ You 
are deceived.” 

“ No, I am not. I purpose to prove all 1 say, 
inch by inch, to your satisfaction, Sir John; and 
mulish as you are, you will be satisfied before I 
am done. I have no time to spare, and we Vvili 
Jjegin at once.” 

Sir Philip placed the letters of his deceased son 
in the hands of the magistrate. 

“ You have read them before,” he continued. 
“ Off with your coat, Lawrence.” 

Larry prepared himself for this examination. 
While he was doing so, Sir Philip produced a 
miniature of his deceased son Lawrence. It was 
painted on ivory; and looking at the face alone, I 
should have supposed it to be the portrait of 
Larry. Sir John acknowledged that the picture 
was a perfect likeness. The blood mark on the 


138 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


arm corresponded with the description in the 
letter, and after Larry had related all that he 
knew, or had heard, of his early life, the magis¬ 
trate declared that he was satisfied. He wrote a 
document, which covered a page of foolscap, to 
the effect that Sir Philip acknowledged Larry to 
be the son of his deceased son Lawrence, which 
we all signed, and the business was finished. 
From the magistrate’s we went to the banker’s, 
where the baronet drew twelve thousand pounds, 
in Bank of England notes. 

Here, my boy,” said Sir Philip, as he handed 
him the entire amount. 

“ But, Sir Philip, T intended to tell you what I 
wished to do with this money,” replied Larry, as 
he coolly took the roll of bills. Perhaps you 
will not approve the purpose to which I shall 
apjdy it.” 

‘‘ Don’t tell me anything about it. I am too 
nervous to hear. I regard this money as a small 
drop of atonement for the past. Say nothing more 
about it.” 

“ I shall send most of it to America.” 

“ Send it to China, if you like. Have you seen 
Miles to-day?’” 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


130 


Yes, sir, I saw him, but did not speak with 
him.’’ 

“ I met him in the garden,” I interposed, and 
related what had passed between him and myself. 

“ The boy understands it all,” said the baronet, 
uneasily. He is a strange fellow; but I don’t 
know that there is anything bad about him. 
Did he say he was going to London by the noon 
train ? ” 

“ He did, sir.” 

“ He always has his own way. He has been a 
pet at Grimsby Hall. Let him go to London, if he 
pleases. Yery likely he wishes to consult some 
lawyer there. It would not be strange if I out¬ 
lived the boy’s father, who is feeble in body and 
mind.” 

I had already concluded that all was not right 
with the elder Miles. He seldom spoke to any 
one, and had a vacant expression. Though his 
wife had been absent six months, I observed 
that he had little or nothing to say to her. On 
the whole, it seemed to me like a very strange 
family. 

We saw Blanche again, and I was satisfied that 
an excellent understanding subsisted between her 


140 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


and Larry. Each promised to write the other. 
My friend had also agreed to write to his grand¬ 
father every week. A carriage conveyed iis to 
the station, and ^ve were attended by the baronet 
and Blanche ; but Miles went in the dog cart by 
himself. 

“ Now, good by, my boy,” said Sir Philip. 

Take good care of yourself; for I depend more 
on you than on any one else. When I write to you 
to come home, come without an liour’s delay.” 

I will obey you in all things, sir,” replied 
Larry. 

‘‘ Are you going to London, Miles? ” asked the 
baronet, as the young man stepped up to him. 

Yes, sir; I want to see some American friends 
there. I may go over the continent with them.” 
Have you money enough ? ” 

Plenty, sir.” 

“ God bless you, my boy. Take care of your¬ 
self,” added the baronet, but with less feeling, 1 
thought, than he had spoken to Larry. 

Thougii the intercourse between Miles and his 
grandfather was attended with all the forms of 
love and tenderness, I began to see that it was 
rather formal. We stepped into an empty com- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


141 


partment, as the train stopped, and were soon on 
our way to London. Miles placed himself at tlio 
farther end of the compartment, and did not speak 
for an hour. His presence prevented Larry and 
myself from talking of what was uppermost in our 
minds ; but for my own part, I was content to gaze 
on the bright green fields of England, and see 
what I could of the beautiful country. Miles was 
very nervous and uneasy, fidgeting from one seat 
to another, trying to look out at the open window, 
but occasionally casting furtive glances at Larry 
and me. When he had kept this up until the 
train was half way to London, he came to our end 
of the compartment, and seated himself at my side, 
fiicing my friend. It was evident that he intended 
to say something, but he only looked at Larry for 
several minutes. 

“It seems that you don’t look like me for 
nothing,” said he, at last. 

“ Well, Miles, I don’t think I look any more like 
you than you do like me,” replied Larry, smiling. 
“ I don’t know whether you mean to say that 
John Jones looks like the king, or the king like 
John Jones.” 

“ Either way you please. I only meant to say 
that there is a strong resemblance between us.” 


142 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Eight; I grant that/’ 

It is not accidental,” added Miles, nervously. 

I’m no philosopher.” 

What were you and my grandfather talking 
about last night?” 

‘‘ Eor further particulars, apply to Sir Philip 
Grimsby, Bart., Grimsby Hall,” laughed Larry. 

Well, I know.” 

“If you do, it is folly to ask.” 

“ You are the son of my uncle Lawrence, who 
died in America.” 

“Is that so? ” demanded Larry. 

“ You know that it is.” 

“ Cousin, your hand, if that is so; and thank you 
for the information,” replied Larry, extending his 
hand to the discomfited young man. “ If what 
you say is true, we are cousins.” 

“We are,” answered Miles, taking the offered 
hand. “ But I’m not glad to see you.” 

“ That’s candid and honest; but are you quite 
sure that what you say is true?” 

“Why did my grandfather send for you last 
night? Why did you stay with him till morning? 
Where did you go with him this forenoon ? ” 

“ Ask Sir Philip.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


143 


I have no occasion to ask liim.” 

Have you taken the dimensions of the key¬ 
hole of Sir Philip’s library door?” 

“No! Don’t insult me ! ” 

“ 1 will not; pardon me.” 

“ Since you have uttered a suspicion, I will say 
that I did not hear a word that was said in the 
library, or anywhere else, on this subject, between 
you and my grandfather; but I understand it 
all. My mother gave me all the information I 
needed.” 

“ Miles, I haven’t a word to say about it,” added 
Larry, more earnestly than he had yet spoken. 

if I took you for a good fellow on board of the 
steamer, and I expected something like mag¬ 
nanimity from you,” muttered Miles. 

“ Magnanimity is a long word, and I am not in a 
condition to be magnanimous towards you. If the 
time ever comes when I can exercise this noble 
sentiment in regard to you, I trust I shall not be 
found wanting.” 

“ That won’t do,” grgwled Miles. 

“ But it must do,” answered Larry, with energy. 

“ Don’t make me your enemy, Lawrence.” 

“I don’t intend'to do that; but if you insist 


144 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR ’ 

upon being mj enemy, I suppose I must submit, 
for I can’t help myself.” 

I give you fair and timely warning,” added 
Miles, shaking his head. • 

1 acknowledge the receipt of the fair and 
timely warning,” said Larry, with the most pro¬ 
voking indifference. 

What do you desire of Larry?” I asked, fear¬ 
ful that a quarrel was brewing, and desirous of 
avoiding any unpleasantness. 

I desire him to be candid and honest with me, 
which he will not. He pretends to know nothing 
about the matter of which I speak. He wdll 
neither deny nor acknowledge the truth of what I 
say,” replied Miles, turning to me, much excited. 

have been present at all the interviews of 
my friend with Sir Philip, and what passed 
between them was entirely confidential. The 
baronet imposed silence upon Larry and upon 
me, and without acknowledging or denying the 
truth of what you say. Miles, neither he nor 1 
have any right to repeat a word that passed at 
these conferences. Larry is entirely honorable 
about the matter, and no gentleman should at¬ 
tempt to worm out of another what the latter 
distinctly declares is confidential.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


145 


Do yon mean to tell me that I am no gentle¬ 
man ? ’’ demanded Miles, whose tone and manner 
indicated that I had not bettered the matter. 

Nothing of the kind ; but I trust you will see 
that it is not proper to press this subject any 
farther,’^ I promptly replied. 

But the subject concerns me more nearly than 
any other person, and is of vastly more con¬ 
sequence to me than to my father, or even my 
grandfather. If Larry comes to England and to 
Grimsby Hall as the son of my uncle Lawrence, ho 
robs me of my inheritance, and makes a beggar of 
me. Do you expect me to keep quiet under such 
circumstances?” continued Miles, warming up at 
what he evidently regarded as his wrongs. 

The statement you -make is neither admitted 
nor denied, and we can say nothing about the 
matter.” 

That will do, Phil. Don’t open your mouth on 
the subject again.” 

‘‘ Your friend is an adventurer,” added Miles, 
still addressing me. I was till yesterday the 
prospective heir of the title and estates of my 
grandfather. Now he steps in between me and all 
my earthly hopes.” 

10 


146 


BIVOUAC. AND BATTLE, OR 


This is a fine country, Phil,” said Larry. 

And lie refuses mo even a word of explana¬ 
tion,” persisted Miles. 

Beautiful country,’’ I added. 

Sir Philip is one of the ten richest men in Eng¬ 
land, and his estates and income would all have 
been mine, if your friend had not come here to 
blast my hopes.” 

That’s a pretty stream of water; I suppose 
they call it a river over here,” said Lariy. 

Very likely; there isn’t room enough here for 
such rivers as the Mississippi, the Ohio, or even 
the Hudson.” 

You do not hear what I say,” interposed Miles. 

‘‘ Every word of it; but we respectfully decline 
to continue the conversation on the subject you 
have chosen, for the reason we have distinct!}" 
stated,” I replied, gently, but firmly. 

T see that you intend to add insult to injury,” 
muttered Miles. 

Far from it.” 

“I give you fair warning, Lawrence Grimsby, if 
that be your name, which I doubt.” 

Receipt of warning duly acknowledged. Miles 
Grimsby, if that is your name, which T don’t 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


147 


doubt; and I will give it to you in writing if you 
desire/' replied Larry. 

Yon have made me your enemy." 

“ Sorry for it, but must submit." 

Miles suddenly darted to the corner of the com¬ 
partment which he had before occupied, and, very 
much agitated, drummed on the floor wdth his feet, 
and pounded the cushions with his hands. I was 
sorry for him, though, if my friend was really 
the son of Lawrence Grimsby, deceased. Miles Imd 
no right to complain. Certainly Larry had done 
nothing himself to provoke the disappointed young 
man ; on the contrary, he had been very forbearing 
under his charges. During the rest of the journey 
Miles twice attempted to resume the subject; but 
we declined even to speak of it again. When the 
train stopped at Euston Square station, in London, 
he darted out of the carriage with his portmanteau 
in his hand, and disappeared in the crowd. Larry 
and 1 took a cal), and drove to Morley’s, in Trafal¬ 
gar Square. We took a room together. 

Phil, this money is heavy in my pocket, and it 
must be started off at once," said Larry. 

Are you determined to do this roiffentic act, 
Larry ? " I asked. 


148 


BIVOUAC AKD BATTLE, OR 


Undoubtedly I am. I haven’t wavered or 
hesitated the millionth part of a second in my 
purpose. You have the address of the president 
of that bank in Lowerville. Now write a letter to 
him ; tell him to put this money into his bank, and 
never open his head to a single soul on earth, 
except to say that Mr. Fennimore’s estate don't 
owe the concern a red cent. I shall not feel easy 
till the money is on its way.” 

I wrote the letter as Larry dictated, and then 
we went to my bankers’. A bill on New York, in 
favor of the president of the bank, was purchased, 
the duplicates to be forwarded by the bankers 
which I enclosed in the letter I had written. I 
requested the gentleman to address his reply to 
“Lawrence Grimsby, Esq.,” care of my bankers. 
My friend then invested the greater part of his 
remaining funds in a letter of credit, good any¬ 
where in Europe. 

“ Now I feel more like a Christian than I ever 
did before in the whole course of my life,” said 
Larry, as we left the bankers’. “ I even feel like 
forgiving grandfather Sir Philip for making me a 
rich man^’ 

“ I dare say you do. But how in regard to 
Miles?” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 149 

“ I don’t feel a bit hard towards him. I’m sorry 
for him : if I were he, perhaps I should be rs 
much disgruntled as he is ; but I doubt it. Now, 
Phil, let me pay you what I owe you; for really 
that’s one .of the greatest pleasures in the known 
world.” 

Larry paid me the money I had advanced in 
cash and for clothing; but I positively refused to 
take the sum I had given after the accident, and 
we compromised it by his purchashing a gold 
watch at Bennett’-s, on the case of which he had 
my name engraved as the giver. 


150 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER XL 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE 
OF A MAN WITH A PREPOSTEROUS HAT, AND START 
FOR ITALY. 

I COULD not lose sight of the fact that I was in 
London, the metropolis of the world, though I 
had not time to see its sights. I was deeply in¬ 
terested in its croAvded streets and its massive 
public buildings. From the bankers’ we went 
down to London Bridge, then to the Bank, the 
Tower of London, and other sights in that part of 
the city. The next day we went to Westminster 
Abbey and Palace, through the Parks, and into the 
British Museum. This was all we were able to 
see of London on this visit. I had stopped longer 
than I intended already, and I was in haste to reach 
Paris, wdiere I expected to find a letter from Mar¬ 
ian Collingsby, my cousin, who had promised to 
give me the latest intelligence in regard to my 
mother. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


151 


On the morning of the third day after our arri¬ 
val, we left for Paris, and arrived in the evening 
of the same day. I hastened to the bankers, and 
found three letters, one from Marian, one from 
Ella Gracewood, and one from my father. My 
cousin informed me that my mother had gone to 
Milan, to spend several weeks with some Italian 
friends, whose address she was unable to give me. 
My father assured me that he was still well and 
happy, and Ella’s letter gave mo a fluttering of 
the heart, though it contained nothing which need 
be transcribed to these pages. It was a very 
pleasant letter, and one of that kind which a young 
man reads all the way from twenty to a hundred 
times. 

Larry and I walked about the city for two hours, 
till we had a tolerable idea of the central portion, 
and then returned to the Hotel Meurice, Avhere 
we had taken a double room. The city was in 
a blaze of excitement over the Italian war. The 
emperor and the army had gone to take part in 
the conflict which was to end in the expulsion 
of the Austrians from Lombardy. The entliusiasm 
was tremendous, and Larry and myself were in¬ 
fected with it; for it seemed to us like a war for 


152 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


liberty. Then France appeared to represent the 
highest ideal of justice, and to bear a chivalrous part 
in redeeming the oppressed from the oppressor. 
Garibaldi’s name was on every lip, and the fa¬ 
mous hymn that bears his name was played by 
every band, and whistled and sung by all the 
people. 

There will be a lively time in Italy when we 
get there, Phil,’' said Larry. 

“ I think so; and I am afraid the war will spoil 
all my calculations,” I replied, as we entered the 
garden of the Tuileries, where a band of music 
had attracted a great crowd. 

“ This music stirs me clear down to my boots. 
I believe, if I knew French well enough, I should 
enter the array as a volunteer.” 

“ You don’t mean it.” 

Yes, I do. I never cared much about playing 
soldier; but when it comes to the real matter, I 
believe in it.” 

‘‘But you have no wish to take part in these 
European quarrels.” 

“Why not? I believe in liberty. Austria and 
tyranny mean the same thing.” 

“Your circumstances have changed.” 


Tttv At*t?t7st tv ttik (taut)kk OF riiE Tuilertes. Piitre 154 





I'T'Wc; 



































f 






( 

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I 










V 

v*H 

n 

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THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 153 

They have ; but I have not changed. I am the 
same old sixpence. I wish I could talk French. 

You say you can read it a little.’^ 

“ I can; but I can’t tell Avhat one of these French¬ 
men says when he speaks any more than if he 
spoke the Hottentot lingo. You seem to be quite 
at home at it, Phil.” 

began to study French when I Avas ten years 
old, and have kept it up ever since. Miss Grace- 
wood, and I used to practise every day. I find I 
can get along very well.” 

First rate. By the Avay, Phil, do you sec that 
long-haired fellow on your right, smoking a cigar? ” 
said Larry, nodding towards the individual. 

“ Yes; and I have seen him half a dozen times 
before to-day, in the steamer and on the train from 
London.” 

The man to whom Larry alluded had long, black 
hair, and a long, black mustache. He Avore a 
rather threadbare suit of black, Avith a black hat 
Avhich had possibly been in fashion some time dur¬ 
ing the last ten years; for it Avas preposterously 
high in the crown and narroAv in the brim. I had 
heard and read a great deal about the spy sys¬ 
tem of Paris, and I could not help connecting this 


154 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


man with the French shadows,” who worm them¬ 
selves into the confidence of all sorts of people, and 
worm out of them all sorts of secrets. He looked 
like a tricky and cunning man; but a»lie had come 
from London with ns, a second thought assured me 
that my suspicion was absurd. While I was think¬ 
ing of the matter I saw four policemen approaching 
us. I had seen some of these sergents de ville near 
the station, and many of them in the streets and 
boulevards. I could not help admiring their dress 
and bearing. They wore gray linen pants, and 
dark-blue dress coats, having rather long and broad 
skirts, buttoned up to the throat, janty chapeaux 
on their heads, and a light, slender sword at the 
side, which hung from a belt inside of the coat. I 
looked at them again, and more than ever admired 
their appearance. They walked directly towards 
us, and I was about to express my favorable opin¬ 
ion of them to my friend, when, to my utter aston¬ 
ishment, two of them surrounded ” me, and the 
other two performed a similar service for Larry. 

Pardonj monsieur,'^ said one of the pair at my 
side, as they locked their arms in mine, and began 
to move me towards the Rue Rivoli. 

Qu^est ce que vous voiilez ? ” I demanded. 



155 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 

“ Pardon^ monsieur was the only reply I re¬ 
ceived, as the men hurried me over the walks to¬ 
wards the street. 

I say, Phil, how’s this ? ” called Larry. 

I don’t know ; I don’t understand it.” 

‘‘ Vous voiis trompez!'’’ (you are mistaken), ex¬ 
claimed some one in a new voice behind me. 

The policemen halted, and suddenly released their 
hold of Larry and myself. Turning to see who had 
thus kindly interposed in our favor, I discovered 
the seedy, long-haired individual. 

Les messieurs sont Am6ricainsJ' added he, shak¬ 
ing his head vigorously, as though he was much 
mortified at the blunder. 

Pardon, messieurs, said' the officers, as they 
politely touched their chapeaux, and walked away 
into the crowd. 

What had passed satisfied me in regard to the 
long-haired individual, that he was a member of the 
secret police, a spy, or a stool-pigeon. Ho took off 
his preposterous hat, bowed low, demanded “^ar- 
c?on,” and hastily retreated towards the Rue Rivo- 
li; for the crowd, never partial to men of his cloth, 
were looking at him with suspicion and disfavor. 

“ I am sorry it ended so abruptly,” laughed Lar- 


156 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


ry. “ I wanted to see more of it; for I was in 
hopes we were arrested as red republicans, or 
something of that sort, and I rather like an adven¬ 
ture.” 

I am not at all anxious to be detained a week 
or more here, though I suppose my passport would 
have got me out of the scrape. By the way, Larry, 
you ought to have such a document.” 

I wouldn’t give two cents for a barrel of them. 
What do I want of a passport ? ” 

“ To prove that you are an American citizen.” 

“ If Sir Philip Grimsby and the spot on my arm 
don’t lie, I'm not an American citizen.” 

No ; you are a Briton.” 

“ I don’t half like the idea ; but the pile of money 
has a reconciling influence.” 

When the band in the garden had finished the 
concert, we went over to the Hotel Meurice. As 
we entered the court-yard, we saw the long-haired 
individual seated in one of the iron chairs, quietly 
smoking a cheap cigar, as I judged it was by the 
villanous odor it exhaled. As soon as he perceived 
us, he sprang to his feet, hastily removed his pre¬ 
posterous hat, and bowed with the most extravagant 
deference. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


157 


“ How are you, old boy ? What’s the meaning 
of the farce you played off on us in the garden ? ” 
said Larry, not supposing that the long-haired gen¬ 
tleman could speak English. 

“ I came here to beg your pardon for the mis¬ 
take,” replied he, bowing low again. 

“ Ah, Mr. Jones, you speak English ! ” 

0, yes ; I speak English, French, German, Span¬ 
ish, Portuguese, and Italian, which is my native 
language.” 

Bully for you ! ” exclaimed Larry. “ Of course, 
with as many lingos as that, you don’t know how 
to hold your tongue.” 

Even better than I do to speak,” replied he, 
blandly. 

“ What did you take us fo be? ” I inquired. 

I took you to be American gentlemen. I made 
no mistake. It was the stupid policemen.” 

Whom were you looking for ? ” 

“ For London pickpockets: two came in the 
train to-day.” 

Then you are a police spy, Mr. Jones ? ” in¬ 
quired Larry. 

‘‘ Do not mention it, if you please. I interfered 
and betrayed myself rather than permit the police 
to annoy you, even for a moment.” 


158 


BIYOUAC. AND BATTLE, OR 


All right, Mr. Jones. That was doing - the 
handsome thing, Mr. Jones.” 

‘‘My name is Cuore [Koo-6>ray] — Giovanni 
Ciioro, at your service,” added the spy, bowing 
again. In English, you would call me John 
Hart.” 

“ How did you know that we were Americans ? ” 
I asked. 

“ I heard you speak of America on the steamer. 
I shall have the two pickpockets arrested, and then 
I shall go to Italy,” continued Cuore, avIio seemed 
to be very communicative for a man whose business 
it was to keep still. “ I shall go to Nizza [Neet-za] 
to-morrow night.” 

“ Where is Nizza ? ” I inquired. 

“Ah, in English you call it Nice [Nees], as in 
French.” 

“ Are you going to Nice ? ” And I was much 
interested then, for I intended to go there myself, 
in order to obtain some information in regard to 
my mother. 

“ Yes; to Nice, and then to Milan, where I was 
born, and lived till I was twenty-two.” 

This was exactly my own route, and I at once 
regarded Signor Cuore as a person I wished to 
know better. 


159 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 

“ But the Austrians will not allow you to visit 
Milan,’’ I suggested. 

I go where I please, in spite of Austrians, 
French, or Sardinians,” he replied, significantly. 

I suppose you intend to go into the spy busi¬ 
ness,” I added. 

Possibly,” said he, shrugging his shoulders. 

“ But I must look for the two pickpockets. I know 
where to find them, and in another hour they will 
be in the Conciergerie. I only came to apologize 
for the mistake ; ” and taking off his hat, ho began 
to retreat backward towards the entrance. 

One moment. Monsieur Cuore. Will you break¬ 
fast with us to-morrow morning at nine ? ” I inter¬ 
posed. 

“ You do me very great honor,” he replied, with ■ 
the same extravagant deference. 

♦ But I desire very much to see you again.” 

I will accept your considerate invitation with 
great pleasure.” 

Nino o’clock.” 

Nine o’clock; hon soir, monsieur ,he answered, 
and departed. 

What do you want of that cove, Phil ? ” de¬ 
manded Larry. 


160 


BIVOUAC AIsD BATTLE, OR ’ 


He is going to Italy, and is an Italian. He can 
help me.’’ 

‘‘ How do you know but he is a government 
spy ? ” 

I don’t care if he is. I have no intention of 
subverting the government, or taking part with the 
Austrians: so I have nothing to fear from all the 
spies in the world.” 

We walked about the city during the evening, 
and retired early. The next day all Paris was ring¬ 
ing with the news of the battle of Montebello, in 
which the French and Sardinians defeated the 
Austrians. Punctually at nine o’clock came Signor 
Cuore. He assured us the London pickpockets 
were arrested, and that his mission was ended. 
He made himself very agreeable, and was satisfied 
that I should be able to enter Milan, if I would 
submit to his direction. He would aid me in 
every possible way. Indeed, Signor Cuore seemed 
to exist just then for the sole purpose of serv¬ 
ing me. 

We must go to Marseilles, and then by steamer 
to Nice. The train leaves the station Boulevard 
Mazas at twenty minutes past eight this evening,” 
said Cuore, as he bowed and scraped his adieus. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


161 


“ Now, Larry, I don't wish to drag you after 
me," said I, when the spy had gone. 

Wherever thou goest, I goest," laughed he. 

I am going into a disturbed country." 

“ So much the better. If I can get near enough 
to a great battle to see it, I shall do so. As I told 
yon, I had just as lief live as die, and I should 
really like to take a hand in the fight for United 
Italy. I hate an Austrian as bad as any of them." 

“ I may get near enough to be in danger. I shall 
heed no peril. If I am sure that my mother is in 
Milan, ,I shall go there at all hazards; for she may 
need my assistance, and one don’t know what may 
happen in war. But I won’t ask you to go into 
danger." 

“I don’t care for danger, Phil. I’m not a 
chicken, and I think I can stand it anywhere 
you can." 

“ I have been under fire, you know; in fact, in 
a battle." 

“In a little Indian squabble," laughed Larry. 
“ I have been in a street fight, which is about the 
same thing." 

“ I think not; about twenty men were killed in 
my battle." 


11 


162 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


That’s pretty fair; but the war in Italy this 
summer will be no boys’ play, and I want to be in 
it, either as an actor or a spectator.” 

“ Very well; we are off to-night, then.” 

During the day we wrote our letters, drew what 
money we needed, and, as we were going to a 
troubled region, we sewed napoleons into our sus¬ 
penders, waistbands, and other available places, so 
that we need not be deprived of the “ sinews of 
war,” in case of accident. At. the time indicated, 
we were at the railroad station, where we found 
Cuore, as bland and polite, and as ready to serve 
us, as ever. Though the train was rather crowded, 
we obtained a compartment to ourselves by his 
skill and address, and we began to realize the ben¬ 
efit of having such an old stager ” with us. 

At noon the next day we were in Marseilles, 
where we embarked the same evening for Nice. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


163 


CHAPTER XII. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY CONTINUE THEIR JOUR¬ 
NEY, AND MEET A FRENCH GENERAL OF BRIGADE. 

W E were in Marseilles about six hours, and 
had time to obtain a general view of the 
city. Cuore followed us wherever we went, and 
seemed to know the place as well as if he had 
lived there all his life. The steamer in which 
we embarked was French, and though she was 
crowded with passengers on their way to the seat 
of war, our zealous friend obtained the best ac¬ 
commodations on board for us. Larry and myself 
were exceedingly grateful to him for his attention. 
The sea was delightfully smooth, and the course 
of the vessel was in sight of the land. We re¬ 
mained on deck till it was too dark to see any¬ 
thing, and then retired to the cabin. 

“ You will drink a bottle of champagne with me 
now — won’t you, gentlemen?” said Cuore, as we 
entered the cabin. 


164 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“1 thank yon, sir; but I never drink cham¬ 
pagne, or any other wine,” I replied. 

‘‘Nor I, either,” added Larry, shrugging his 
shoulders, as though he regarded his refusal as an 
excellent joke. 

“ Americans are‘ very singular people,” laughed 
the Italian. “ You must drink wine in Italy. The 
water will make you sick; and besides, it is warm 
and not pleasant to drink.” 

“ I think I can stand it. I was brought up on 
river water. At any rate, I shall be sick a while 
before I drink any wine,” I continued. 

“ But everybody drinks wine in Italy,” persisted 
Cuore. 

“ No; I don’t.” 

“ Nor I,” laughed my friend. 

Larry and I went to our state-room, and very 
likely the Italian drank his champagne before he 
retired. 

“ Why should that fellow take so much pains to 
please us?” asked Larry, as we were turning in. 

“ I don’t know, unless it is out of the kindness 
of his own heart,” I replied. 

“That’s all in your eye, Phil. I never drank 
much champagne, but I have been about enough 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


165 


to notice that when some fellows have a big 
axe to grind, they use champagne for the grind¬ 
stone.’’ 

“ Possibly it may be so in this instance; at any 
rate, we will keep our eyes wide open. There is 
one thing about it, Larry: we are not likely to be 
blinded with champagne.” 

My friend’s suggestion seemed to be worthy of 
consideration, and while I was thinking about it I 
dropped asleep, and did not wake till the wheels 
of the steamer stopped in the port of Nice. We 
went on shore, and taking a carriage, drove to the 
Hotel de la Mediterran^e^ which is a very pleasant 
situation, facing the sea. I had chosen this hotel, 
and insisted upon going there, because my cous¬ 
in’s letter had informed me that my mother had 
boarded there, though Cuore desired to stay at 
the Hold des Etrangers. Even the fact of being 
at the place where my mother had spent the 
winter made me feel nearer to her than I had 
ever consciously been before. I had with me the 
precious memorials by which my father had been 
enabled to identify me, and 1 hoped' soon to place 
them before my other parent. 

Mr. Collingsby, ray grandfather, and Mr. Col- 


166 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


lingsby, my uncle, had persistently refused even 
to consider my relationship to them, or to glance 
at the testimony I was able to produce. My 
mother had been in Europe nearly three years, 
with her brother, Joseph Collingsby, and his wife. 
I had never seen this uncle, but I supposed he 
must be as prudent, dignified, and unsentimental 
as the rest of the family whom I had met. It was 
even possible that he would not permit me to 
state my case to my mother; but I was deter¬ 
mined not to fail in my undertaking. My first and 
only business in Nice was to obtain tidings of my 
mother, and as soon as I reached the hotel, I went 
to work upon the case. I applied at once to that 
important personage about European hotels, the 
porter, wlio had an office at the entrance. He 
spoke English, as well as three or four other 
languages. 

‘‘Did Mr. Joseph Collingsby board at this hotel 
during the winter ? ” I inquired. 

“Yes, sir; an American, you mean?^' replied 
the porter. 

“Yes; who were with him?’^ 

“ Mrs. Collingsby and another lady — what was 
her name?’^ 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


167 


The man opened his register, and began to turn 
the leaves. 

The party left about four weeks ago to go to 
Milan with Signor Bertani and family. Here is 
the lady’s name — Mrs. Farringford.” 

The sight of the name sent my heart into my 
throat, and it did not at that moment occur to me 
that hostile armies lay between Nice and Milan. 

Is the lady in Milan now?” I inquired. 

I don’t know, but I think so. Signor Bertani’s 
family spent the winter here, and they were very 
intimate with the Collingsby party. Signor Ber¬ 
tani is a very rich Italian gentleman, and has a fine 
house in Milan. The Collingsbys were to stay a 
month or two with them, and then all of them were 
going to Switzerland ; for the two gentlemen 
talked about the matter in my hearing. You wish 
to see Mr. Collingsby ? ” 

Mrs. Farringford, more particularly.” 

You can’t go to Milan now,” added the porter. 

Perhaps I can.” 

Signor Bertani made his fortune out of the 
Austrians, and he is not in favor of United Italy,” 
continued the man, whose manner allowed no 
doubt in regard to his politics. 


168 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I am sorry he is on the wrong side/^ I replied. 

But can you tell me where to find him, in case I 
get to Milan ? 

He is a banker, Corso di Bosinare, No. 21,’^ 
replied the porter, writing out the address in full. 
“ The less you say about Signor Bertani, the 
better it will be for you, unless you are among 
the Austrians.’’ 

I paid but little attention to this friendly warn¬ 
ing, and afterwards wished I had heeded it. To 
me tho political question was a very plain one, and 
all my sympathies were with France and Italy. I 
believed in Cavour, the great Italian statesman, 
and his policy. Lombardy was clearly a part of 
Italy, and it seemed to me that Austria had no 
right there. The people wished to be restored to 
their natural political connections, and on the part 
of the Italians it was freedom’s battle ” which 
was then in progress. 

My business in Nice was accomplished; but we 
were obliged to remain in the city till the next 
forenoon, when a steamer left for Genoa. 

I consider myself very fortunate, Larry,” said 
I, as we seated ourselves on deck to watch the 
shores of Italy, after the steamer had started. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


169 


You always are, Phil; but I don’t see wherein 
you are particularly so just now,” replied he. 

I have ascertained just where my mother has 
gone.” 

“ Not much luck in that; but I haven’t much of 
an idea that you will get to Milan this summer, 
unless you join the French army, and go in with 
the soldiers.” 

“ 1 would even do that for the sake of getting 
there.” 

But when the allied army goes in, your mother 
will not be there, if she goes with the Austrians.” 

I don’t believe my mother goes with the 
Austrians; but I intend to find her, wherever 
she goes.” 

“ You are a brick, Phil. Suppose we join the 
French army. That will be the easiest way to get 
into Milan this summer. I really want to take a 
part in this business,” said Larry. 

Of course I couldn’t think of such a thing. It 
would spoil all my plans.” 

I want to get into something exciting.” 

Perhaps we shall have that without going into 
the army. By the way, have you an idea that 
Cuore had any business in Nice ? ” 


170 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

If he had, he must have neglected it, for I 
don’t think he was out of my sight five minutes at 
any one time.” 

I was thinking of that this morning. He sticks 
to us like a leech.” 

“ That’s so; but he said he was going to Nice 
before you said anything about it. He did not 
come here for our sakes.” 

He seems to keep good company,” I added, 
pointing to a part of the deck where a group of 
officers stood, the principal one of whom was talk¬ 
ing with Cuore. 

‘‘He is not a bashful man, like myself,” laughed 
Larry. “ He seems to be on good terms with that 
general of brigade.” 

“ Is that his rank ? ” 

“ So Cuore told me.” 

The general was certainly a good-looking man, 
and apparently a very affable one. I was sur¬ 
prised to see our Italian friend so intimate with 
him; but if he was in the employ of the govern¬ 
ment, perhaps it was not very strange that he 
should be on speaking terms with a general of 
brigade in time of war. Larry and I turned in at 
an early hour, and I was soon asleep. I waked 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


171 


once in the night, and found that the little steamer 
was pitching violently in a head sea. The weather 
had been rather threatening when we retired, and 
I expected both wind and rain during the night. 
But I was accustomed to a stormy sea, and turning 
over in my berth, I went to sleep again. Early in 
the morning Larry waked me. 

It blows great guns, Phil,” said he. 

Let it blow,” I replied, still quite sleepy. 

“ I donT know that we can help ourselves,” he 
added ; but I have been up half the night.” 

What for?” 

“ I couldn’t sleep. The steamer rolled so, my 
brains were nearly knocked out. The French 
brigadier was on deck; and if ever a brave man 
was frightened, he was.” 

“ There is no occasion to be alarmed.” 

I am not alarmed; for I told you I was as 
ready to live as die. I was speaking of the 
brigadier. He was on the hurricane deck, hold¬ 
ing on to the bob-stay.” 

Was he, indeed ? Then he has tremendous 
long arms,” I added, laughing at Larry’s blunder. 

Well, the brig-stay, then.” 
never heard of that stay before. Probably 


172 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


it was the mizzen-stay ; for there is such a piece of 
rigging within reach of the hurricane deck.’’ 

“ The brigadier had to stay there, whatever the 
stay was. The steamer dipped the water in over 
her sides as she rolled, and monsieur expected to 
go to the bottom. I had quite a chat with him, 
for he speaks English first rate. He’s going direct¬ 
ly to the front.” 

‘‘ I’m willing; but if you have been up half the 
night, Larry, you had better turn in again, and 
finish your nap. Your berth is the most comfort¬ 
able place when it blows.” 

I don’t think so; I want to see the fun, and 
cultivate the acquaintance of the brigadier. I 
thought you might want to know what’s going on; 
so 1 waked you. Who knows but I may get a 
chance on the brigadier’s staff. I know all about 
soldiering, for I was a high private in the Forty- 
ninth for nearly a year. If I could only speak the 
lingo, I would go in.” 

I don’t know what else my friend said, for I 
dropped asleep again. I was not much interested 
in his military aspirations, and I concluded that 
his want of fiuency in the language would be a 
sufficient bar to all his hopes. But Larry had 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOI.DIER. 


173 


improved his French wonderfully, for he had 
bought a phrase book in Paris, which he studied, 
during a large portion of the time, practising with 
Cuore and myself. I slept till the steamer’s 
wheels stopped, and then went -on deck. The 
boat was two hours late, and when I joined Larry 
she was inside of the two long moles whicli pro¬ 
tect the harbor of Genoa. The port was crowded 
with French and Italian transport steamers, which 
had brought in troops and stores from Marseilles, 
Toulon, and Leghorn, and our vessel was obliged 
to anchor near the jaws of the harbor. The wind 
was south-east, and still blowing a gale, which 
made a heavy sea, even inside of the moles. But 
rough as the sea was, the shore boats came off for 
passengers; for I believe there is not a single 
Mediterranean port where vessels go up to a quay 
or wharf. 

Larry was talking with the general, who still 
held on at the mizzen-stay, and his military coat 
was soaked by the spray and rain. 

Here is Phil,” said he, as soon as I appeared 
on deck. “ He knows all about it.” 

I walked up to him. 

General Eberld, this is my friend, Mr. Farring- 
ford,” continued Larry. 


174 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

The general gave me his hand, and greeted me 
warmly, though he did not release his hold of the 
stay with his left hand, and I noticed that he kept 
one eye on the surging waves. 

Can we go-to ze shore in ze little boat?^’ he 
asked, anxiously, as he glanced at the small craft, 
whose owners were vociferously offering their 
services. Fbtre ami a dit que votes ties marin^' 
Owi, monsieur; you can land very well,’^ I 
replied. 

“ I have vee’y much fear of ze watair.’’ 

‘‘There is not much danger, sir, if the boats are 
well managed.” 

I said what I could to assure the general that a 
boat could live in the sea around us, but I was 
willing to admit that it was not without peril. I 
presumed that the boatmen were skilful in their 
business. He was very anxious to leave the 
steamer, and we engaged two boats to land us. 
They were small craft, and were manned by father 
and son, the latter of whom was a boy of sixteen. 
General Eberld and another officer went with the 
old man, while Larry and I, with our baggage, 
took passage with the boy. Cuore and an ofiScer 
engaged a third boat. We embarked safely, and 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


175 


in another moment we were bobbing up and down 
like feathers on the angry waves. A combing 
wave broke over the stern of the old man’s boat, 
which startled the general, and he did the stupid¬ 
est thing a man could possibly do under such cir¬ 
cumstances, for he sprang to his feet. I heard the 
boatman shout, and then I saw the brigadier top¬ 
ple over into the water. He disappeared from my 
sight for a moment, and then I discovered him 
struggling on the top of a huge wave. 

Give way, man ! ” I shouted to our boatman; 
but he appeared to be paralyzed by the catas¬ 
trophe, and did not understand English. 

Finding he could do nothing, I sprang from the 
bow of the boat where I was seated, and grasped 
the oars. Driving the boy forward, I pulled the 
boat up to the unfortunate general. But just at 
that moment his head bobbed under. I brought 
the little craft up head to the sea, and then told 
the boy, in French, to take the oars again. Per¬ 
haps he understood my gestures better than my 
words; at any rate, he obeyed me, and I returned 
to the bow. 

Keep still, Larry I Don’t move ! ” I shouted 
to my friend, whose movements indicated that he 


176 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


intended to jump overboard. I will get him in a 
minute.’’ 

The general rose again, and I fastened the boat¬ 
hook into his military coat, and hauled him up to 
the bow. By this time the old man had come to 
the rescue, and with his aid the unfortunate man 
was hauled into his boat, which was nearly 
swamped in the act. 




THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


177 


CHAPTER XIII. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY BECOME SOLDIERS, AND 
SPEND THEIR FIRST NIGHT IN BIVOUAC. 

I T seems almost incredible that a man so brave 
as General Eberl^ proved himself to be in the 
fiery onslaught of battle should be timid under any 
circurristances. I have heard of a sea captain who 
never knew what fear was in a gale, on the deck 
of his own ship, but who was absolutely terrified 
in a small sail-boat, when the wind was simply 
fresh. The general was certainly frightened, and 
had practically thrown himself overboard; but the 
old Italian had him safe in the bottom of his boat 
now; and I saw him gesticulating violently to his 
distinguished passenger, in order to keep him 
quiet in his place. 

Neither the old man nor the young man was 
willing to come about in that heavy sea; for we 
were now in the most exposed position. Taking a 
12 


178 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


sharp angle with the direction of the waves, they 
brought their boats under the lee of the steamer, 
and there came about. Keeping well in towards 
the shore, where the water was partially sheltered 
by the mole, they landed at the custom-house quay. 
General Eberle went on shore first, and as soon as 
Larry and I joined him, he rushed towards me, 
threw himself upon me, and hugged me as though 
I had been his lost baby. I was not a little star¬ 
tled at the demonstrative Frenchman’s method 
of testifying his gratitude. 

“You have saved.my life!” exclaimed he, first 
in French and then in English. 

“ That’s so,” said Larry. 

“ You know ze boat; you know ze sea. Monsieur 
Farringford. You have saved my life 1” repeated 
the general, hugging me again. 

I submitted, with the best grace I could, to this 
loving treatment; but I protested that I had done 
nothing to deserve such an expression of emotion. 

“ You have saved my life. You have saved to 
France and Italy a general of brigade. I shall 
fight well with ze life you have given to me.” 

“ I have no doubt you will.” 

“ I have no fear on ze battle-ground; but I have 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


179 


very much fear in ze boat/’ added the general, 
apologetically. Now we will go to ze Hotel 
Feder, if you please.” 

I have some baggage.” 

But my trunk passed the officers without open¬ 
ing, and in a few moments we reached the hotel. 
The general told me he had just come from Al¬ 
giers, and had been assigned to a command in the 
army in Italy. 

I wish to go to Milan,” said I, after my new 
friend had restated his obligations to me. 

It is not possible now ; but the army will be in 
Milan in one or two weeks. You shall go with 
the army. I will take care of you myself.” 

Thank you; and I will accept your offer,” I re¬ 
plied, promptly. 

He left me to change his wet clothes for dry 
ones, fie had hardly left the room before Cuore 
came to me, though he had not been out of my 
sight since we landed at the custom-house. 

‘^Now we shall go to Milan,” said the Italian, 
rubbing his hands, as if delighted with the pros¬ 
pect. 

General Eberffi says it is quite impossible,” I 
answered. 



180 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


To him, yes ; to me, no,” added the Italian. 

I have accepted his kind invitation to go there 
with the army, which will be in Milan within a 
week or two.” 

You have accepted his invitation ! ” exclaimed 
Cuore, with a sudden start of astonishment. 

“ I have.” 

“ What for have you done this ? ” he demanded, 
with an ugly look, such as I had not before seen on 
his face. 

I thought he manifested more feeling about the 
matter than the occasion required; and I could 
not but ask myself again why he had taken so 
much pains to please us. 

^‘.Because I think the army will take me to Milan,” 
I replied. 

“ But the army may never get to Milan,” pro¬ 
tested Cuore, who had never hinted at such a pos¬ 
sibility before, and who had all along professed to 
believe that the allies would march straight across 
the plains of Lombardy, as soon as they were ready. 

Don’t you expect the Austrians will be beaten 
in this campaign ? ” I asked, quietly. 

Nothing is sure, you know. The Austrians 
liave many soldiers and good generals.” 




THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


181 


You seem to have changed your tone, Signor 
Cuore.’^ 

No; but it will be a long time before the army 
enters Milan.” 

Well, I have agreed to go with the general.” 

And your friend ? ” 

Of course we shall keep together.” 

But I have engaged to take you to Milan.” 

Have you? We will release you from the ob¬ 
ligation, then. But I am not aware of the exist¬ 
ence of any agreement on the subject. As you 
were going to Nice, and then 'to Milan, and we 
were going to the same places, we have come to¬ 
gether.” 

^‘But I have pledged myself to take you to 
Milan,” replied he, warmly. 

“ I did not know it before.” 

^^And if you go with me, you shall be in Milan 
in three days, at the most,” said he, in a kind of 
imploring tone, as though it was a matter of some 
consequence that we should go with him. 

The allied army and the Austrian army lie be¬ 
tween us and Milan. Will you tell me how you 
intend to pass both lines ? ” I inquired. 

Hist I Not so loud. You must not speak of 
these things.” 


182 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


We are alone.” 

The Austrians have spies everywhere,” whis¬ 
pered Cuore. 

It was afterwards. shown that the Austrians 
were sadly deficient in this important branch of 
the military service. 

1 shall not start on an expedition through the 
lines of either army without knowing anything 
about the means of passing through.” 
shall be your guide and friend.” 

‘‘ I have no desire to be shot with you as a spy, 
if you are.” 

^‘We shall not be shot if you trust to me. I 
know every rod of ground from Genoa to Milan; 
and I have the passes,” added Cuore, in a whisper. 

“ Come, Phil, we are off in an hour,” said Larry, 
joining me in the dining-room, where I was wait¬ 
ing for breakfast. Hurry up the grub;, the gen¬ 
eral is about ready.” 

‘‘ I have helped you through so far I have got 
the best cabins in the steamers for you; I have 
done all I could for you.” 

You have been very kind, and we are greatly 
obliged to you for your favors.” 

Preciseljr so,” added Larry. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 183 

And now you will leave me ? 

That depends upon which way you are* going. 
If you are going with us, we don’t leave you, any 
more than a man parts with his head. That’s so, 
’pon my soul! ” said my friend, lightly. 

The entrance of the general terminated the con¬ 
versation, and we sat down to breakfast. I pointed 
to a chair for Cuore; but to my surprise, he 
begged to be excused, and took his meal alone, in 
another part of the room. In explanation of his 
conduct, I learned, afterwards, that he did not con¬ 
sider it proper for him to sit at table Avith a gen¬ 
eral of brigade. After breakfast we departed in a 
military train, and in a few hours arrived at 
Alessandria, which was a strongly fortified city, 
the citadel being quite a town of itself. The 
place was croAvded Avith French soldiers, for it 
was the left of the line on the Po, by Avhich the 
emperor intended at first to invade Lombardy. 
He had noAv just changed his plan, tliongli 1 knoAv 
nothing of it at tiie time, and Avas moving his army 
up toAvards the line of the Ticino. Troops Avore 
constantly arriving and departing; but the gen¬ 
eral soon ascertained that his brigade was in the 
vicinity of Vercelli. ' 


184 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ The whole plan is changed,” said Cuore, in a 
solemn and mysterious manner. “ I shall go to 
the Lago Maggiore, and into Milan from the north. 
I intended to go by Pavia.” 

‘‘ What do you mean by the plan being 
changed ? ” I asked. 

Don’t you see that all the troops are moving 
towards the north ? ” 

I haven’t the least idea which way they are 
moving.” 

‘^Pardon; the train is ready,” said General 
Eberle, politely interruping the conversation. 

We took our places with the general in the 
troop train; but Cuore did not enter the compart¬ 
ment with us, though wo knew he was not far 
away. 

General, do you know Signor Cuore ? ” I asked, 
as the train moved off. 

No,” replied he, shrugging his shoulders in 
the true French style. 

I saw you talking with him on board of the 
steamer.” 

I have never seen ze man till then. No; he is 
in ze government service, he say,” added the gen¬ 
eral, laughing, and with his significant shrug im- 


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The Bivouac of the French Army. Page 185 








































































































































































































































































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


185 


plied that more was to be understood than was 
expressed. He only tell me ze news.” 

In two hours more the train stopped in the 
fields. The ground, as far as we could see, was 
covered with the camps of the French and Sardin¬ 
ian troops. Our military friend told us we were 
near the front. We walked about a mile, to the 
headquarters of the general of division, where the 
brigadier reported himself. An aid then con¬ 
ducted us to a farm-house, at least two miles dis¬ 
tant, and the general took possession of his head¬ 
quarters, relieving the officer in command. I 
watched all the formalities with interest, after the 
brigade was drawn up. Cuore was close at my 
side, but Larry remained in the farm-house for a 
short time. When I was beginning to wonder 
what had become of him. General Eberle and his 
staff rode by me. Of the latter there were only 
three or four; but, to my utter astonishment, not 
to say dismay, I recognized Larry as one of 
them! He wore an undress uniform, was well 
mounted, and looked as much like a Frenchman as 
any of them. As he passed me he smiled, and 
gave me the military salute. I concluded that ^ 
this was the result of the long conversations with 
the general. 


186 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

He will not go to Milan! ’’ exclaimed Cuore, 
who still clang to me like a brother. 

Probably he intends to go with the army,’^ I 
replied. 

This is very bad; he will not go to Milan 
with us,” muttered the Italian, evidently more 
disgusted at Larry’s conduct than I was. 

“ You and I can go alone, then,” I suggested. 

“ You will not leave your friend.” 

“ No; but he appears to be leaving me.” 

I felt like a cat in a strange garret after the 
discovery I had made. The Italian for a time 
was my only companion, and he was even more 
discontented than I was. When the parade was 
dismissed, I went back to the farm-house, which 
had a picture of the -Virgin and three saints 
painted over the front door. The stable was con¬ 
nected with the house, and was filled with officers’ 
horses. It was two hours before the general and 
Larry came in to dinner. 

I must say that my friend made a fine-looking 
officer, and did not stumble over the sword that 
dangled at his side. 

What in the world have you been doing, Lar¬ 
ry ? ” I exclaimed, as soon as I had a chance to 
speak to him. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


187 


“ I’ve been going in for United Italy/’ laughed 
he. ‘‘It was quite impossible for me to keep my 
fingers out of this pie.” 

“ But what is your position ? ” I asked, curiously. 

“ Volunteer aid-de-camp, without pay. Didn’t 
you hear the adjutant read my appointment on 
parade ? ” 

“No, I didn’t notice it. You are a pretty aid- 
de-camp ! How can you deliver the general’s or¬ 
ders, when you don’t understand the language, and 
no Frenchman could comprehend you, if you did ? ” 

“ The general speaks English, and he will write 
his orders,” laughed Larry. “ Come, Phil, there’s 
another place, just like mine, for you.’^ 

“ For me ! I don’t know the first thing about 
military.” 

“Not necessary to know anything. You can’t 
go to Milan with the army in a civilian’s dress.” 

“ I will think of it,” I replied, tempted by this 
consideration. 

I could not understand how it was possible to 
appoint an utterly incompetent person even as a 
volunteer aid-de-camp; but the general alone was 
responsible for this; and I realized that he only ^ 
desired to do me a favor, and evidently expected 


188 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


nothing of me. To my surprise, after the disgust 
he had manifested at Larry’s conduct, Cuore ad¬ 
vised, and even pleaded, that I should accept the 
offer. 

You will have nothing to do, either of you, ex¬ 
cept to look on. The general gives you the posi¬ 
tion for your own protection and comfort, because 
you saved his life in the Bay of Genoa,” said he. 
‘‘You can go and come as you please ; and very 
likely your position will enable you to get into 
Milan sooner than without it.” 

Though I was rather inclined to distrust my 
Italian friend, I thought he was right, and I ac¬ 
cepted the offer. I promptly purchased a uniform, 
as Larry had done, of a sutler. It was a second¬ 
hand affair, and a hole in the breast of the coat 
suggested the fate of its former owner; but it had 
been thoroughly renovated, and I was entirely sat¬ 
isfied with it. The sutler declared that the hole 
in the breast of the coat made it worth ten francs 
more, for the owner could point to it as an evidence 
of liis courage ; but, of course, any one could shoot 
a hole through his coat, and thus make himself a 
hero. 

I had left my trunk in Genoa, transferring a few 



THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


189 


articles, including the relics of my childhood, with 
which I never parted, to a small bag. I made a 
bundle of my travelling suit, and strapped it to the 
bag, for I did not think I should long remain a 
soldier. I was not a little astonished when I found 
myself transformed into a military man ; and I sur¬ 
veyed myself all over to observe the effect. I was 
decidedly in favor of the cause which I had thus 
lightly espoused, and if its success had depended 
upon my arm, or even my life, I would not have 
been backward. 

My position did»not seem real to me, and I felt 
like a spectator rather than an actor in the excit¬ 
ing events which were transpiring around me. I 
did not feel called upon to expose myself to the 
perils of battle, and I was too ignorant of the mili¬ 
tary art to be of any service in the brigade. We 
remained at this camp two days, during which 
Larry was busy every moment of the time, hardly 
allowing himself the needed hours of rest. On the 
day after our arrival he came to me with a couple 
of muskets in his hands, and insisted upon my tak¬ 
ing one of them. He then put me through a por¬ 
tion of the manual, using the French words of 
command. When I expressed my surprise, he told 


190 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


me that he had been, taking lessons of an orderly 
sergeant, on duty at headquarters. I soon learned 
to handle a musket, and, by observing the drills 
and parades, obtained a knowledge of the French 
technical terms. Of course my stock of military 
science was very slight indeed, though I could not 
help adding to it almost every moment. 

On the third day after our arrival all the troops 
appeared to be in motion, and our brigade was soon 
on the march. Larry had purchased a horse for 
his own use, though I declined to waste my money 
in following his example ; but a steed was furnished 
for me. We moved forward in a north-easterly di¬ 
rection, over fields and vineyards, till nine o’clock 
in the evening, and then halted on the banks of a 
river. Tents and baggage had been -left behind, 
and wo spent the night in bivouac on the border 
of the stream. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


191 


CHAPTER XIV, 


IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY MOVE FORWARD WITH 
THE ARMY, AND DECIDE TO VISIT MILAN. 

Y the kindness of General Eberle, Larry and 



I J y I were plentifully supplied with blankets, 
and I slept very well. It was not tlie first time I 
had passed the night in the open air, for I had 
often camped under a tree in the wilds of the Up¬ 
per Missouri, with my old hunter friend. The 
army had been moving for two days, but I could 
not form the least idea of what wms going on. 
Though everything was in perfect order, and 
every division and brigade was doing precisely 
what it liad been directed- to do, the whole move¬ 
ment appeared to me to be a mass of confusion. 
For two days more we moved about from place to 
place, apparently without object or aim, until we 
again bivouacked on the bank of the stream, which 
was the River Sesia. I heard that the King of 
Sardinia was on one side of us, and the Emperor 


192 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

of France on the other; but I did not see either 
of them that day. 

On the following morning, for the first time, I 
heard the rattle of musketry and the roar of can¬ 
non, on the other side of the river. This was the 
battle of Palestro. The King of Sardinia had 
crossed the river the day before, and the Aus¬ 
trians were now attacking him in the position he 
had taken. The fight was long and severe, but 
the Austrians were handsomely repulsed on the 
front, though they succeeded in flanking the Ital¬ 
ians on the right, and the result for a time looked 
very doubtful. This part of the conflict we could 
see from our position, and our men were anxious 
to take part in it. Larry was intensely excited, 
and declared that the Austrians had won the day. 
The general thought not, for the French could 
throw in twenty thousand men, if needed, to turn 
the tide. We saw the Austrians post their bat¬ 
teries on a rising ground, which some accounts of 
the battle describe as a hill, though there is no 
such thing in this part of Lombardy. At the foot 
of the slope was a canal, which conveyed the 
waters of the Sesia to a mill. Across this canal 
rushed the Third French Zouaves, some of them 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


193 


on the narrow plank bridge, and others through 
the muddy waters. They were dashing fellows, 
and on they went up the slope, under a sharp fire 
of artillery and musketry. I saw many of the 
brave fellows drop on the way; but almost in the 
twinkling of an eye they had captured the Aus¬ 
trian position, taking the guns and many prisoners, 
and driving hundreds of the enemy into the canal. 

The field was won, and a score of ringing 
cheers, short and sharp, rent the air. The Aus¬ 
trians who were in condition to do so fled. In the 
evening they rallied, and made an attempt to re¬ 
take the place, but were completely repulsed. 

What do you think of that, Phil ? ’’ said Larry, 
after the Zouave charge. 

I think it was well done.’^ 

So do I; but I don’t like to stand here looking 
on,” he added, impatiently. 

This is the safest position.” 

“ Humph ! That isn’t what I bargained for. I 
want to hear the bullets whistle.” 

I am perfectly satisfied to be at a safe dis¬ 
tance. Bullets that whistle have an ugly habit of 
boring through one’s bones and meat, and making 
the blood run.” 

13 


194 BIYOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

“ That is what makes it exciting business. If 
there were no danger, there would be no fun.’^ 

I don’t desire that sort of fun.” 

I do.” 

Do you suppose Blanche Fennimore has any 
particular regard for you, Larry? ” 

I happen to know that she has,” replied he, 
promptly. 

If she knew that you were trying to throw 
away your life in a struggle of this kind, do you 
think she would be comforted by the knowl¬ 
edge ? ” 

‘ None but the brave deserve the fair.’ She 
will think ten times as much of me if I behave like 
a man.” 

But you have no particular interest in this 
quarrel. You go into it as a mere adventurer, 
because you like excitement.” 

“ I have a particular interest in it. I always go 
in for the bottom dog, and I am willing to go in 
for any people that are oppressed by their rulers. 
Where would onr country — or your country, I 
suppose I must call it now — have been, if the 
French hadn’t stepped in to help yon out?” 

“ I don’t know ; but perhaps we should have 
come out. all right.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 195 

“ Perhaps you would—only you wouldn’t.’^ 

The French were fighting their own battle 
while they were fighting ours. They took our 
part because they hated England, rather than 
because they loved us, though this fact does not 
relieve us of the debt of gratitude we owe to 
France. If you behave as well as you talk, Larry, 
I am afraid you will be shot.” 

I will bet you a supper for the crowd that I 
don’t get shot.” 

“ Bet 1 That would be trifiing with the mercy 
of dod.” 

I dare say you are right, Phil. You ought to 
have been a parson.” 

Don’t bet on anything, Larry ; least of all, on a 
matter so serious as the chances of life ; for we 
are always in the hands of our Father.” 

But the chances of being shot are really less 
than you think, Phil.” 

“ There are chances enough, at least.” 

After supper, we crossed the river, and bi¬ 
vouacked on the other side. The next morning 
we marched to Novara, and encamped outside of 
the walls. It was evident to all that we were on 
the eve of a great battle, for Milan was less than 


196 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


thirty miles distant, and the Austrians would not 
allow the capital of Lombardy to be occupied by 
the allies without a desperate attempt to save it. 
Our general thought we were near the centre of 
the line, and that in less than three days we 
should see some very heavy fighting. I was not 
pai ticularly pleased with the prospect, especially 
as I found that my military friend was somewhat 
inclined to use me. On parade, and elsewhere, I 
carried orders, and it seemed to me that I was an 
errand-boy on a large scale. I did not object to 
being aii aid-de-camp in the reserve, if this portion 
of the force was not called into action. 

There will be lively times here soon, Phil,’^ 
said Larry, as we met at sunset. 

‘‘ I’m not anxious to see any 'such times as you 
suggest,” I replied. “ In fact. I’m rather sorry 
that I put on this uniform.” 

Come, Phil, don’t back down.” 

I haven’t backed down; but I don’t want to 
be shot, or to be thrown into an Austrian prison.” 

Are you afraid ? ” 

I am — a downright coward in this business; 
for I feel that it does not particularly concern me.” 

‘‘ You are honest, Phil; but I don’t believe you 
are a coward.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A .SOLDIER. 


197 


“ I am.” 

Impossible ! ” said a voice behind us, which we 
identified as that of Cuore. 

We had not seen him before for three days, and 
I supposed he was on his mission within the 
Austrian lines. 

“ I thoug'ht you were on the other side of the 
Ticino,” I suggested. 

I have been ; but I have come back. I have 
been in Milan,” replied the Italian.- 

“Indeed!” 

“ I left Milan last night.” 

“ Last night 1 ” I exclaimed, astonished at the 
facility with which he seemed to pass through the 
hostile lines. “ How could you have come through 
so soon ? ” 

“ The trains on the railroad run down as far as 
Magenta, to bring supplies for the troops ; from 
there I came in a baggage wagon nearly to the 
Ticino River.- I am going back again to-night.” 

“ To Milan ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Cuore was very fluent in his speech, and did 
not seem to be at all fatigued by his long journey 
and the excitement of passing through the pickets 


198 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


of both armies. He seemed to me to be a wonder¬ 
ful fellow, and I could form some idea of the 
importance of the man to the French arms, for 
doubtless he had informed the generals of the 
precise location and numbers of the Austrians. I 
was strongly impressed by his skill and powers of 
endurance, and I gazed at him with wonder and 
astonishment. 

I passed through the Corso di Bosinare, while 
I was in Milan,’’ he added, as I was still regarding 
him. 

What’s that ? ” I asked. 

Don’t you remember?” 

No.” 

Signor Bertani,” he continued, suggestively. 

Ah, did you, indeed ? It was very kind of 
you to think of me, Avhen you had so much busi¬ 
ness on your hands,” I replied, recalling the name 
as the friend of my mother, and of the Collingsbys, 
to whom he alluded. 

I never forget or neglect a friend.” 

Did you obtain any information?” I asked, 
deeply interested in the matter. 

I did ; I spoke with Signor Bertani himself.” 

Are his American friends still with him ? ” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


199 


“ They are, and a.re likely to remain with him; 
for, you see, it is quite impossible to get into 
Switzerland, by any direct route, for Garibaldi and 
the Chasseurs d^Alpes hold the lakes, and have pos¬ 
session of all the steamers. Besides, the Austrians 
in Milan do not expect to lose the city.’’ 

‘‘But suppose the city should be captured; 
would Signor Bertani leave ? ” I inquired. 

“ Certainly he would; the Italians would hang 
him if they caught him.” 

“ Would his family depart ? ” 

“ I think not. If Milan is captured, the Austrians 
will want all the railway carriages for their own 
use, and would not give them up for women and 
children, who would be perfectly safe in the city. 
But you should go to Milan before the army.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

“ You will be sure to find yolir mother now ; but 
if you wait two or three days the Austrians may 
fortify the city. Then the French will bombard it, 
and the women and children must all leave.” 

“ Do you think \ could pass through the lines ? ” 
I asked, somewhat excited by such a prospect. 

“ You can pass safely through with me. I will 
promise that both of you shall be in Milan before 
six o’clock to-morrow morning.” 


200 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ I cannot go,” interposed Larry. 

Not go with your friend ? ” said Cuore. 

No ; I am going to see that big battle, and have 
a finger in the pie, too. I shall not leave the 
army,” added Larry, very decidedly. 

“ I thought you would keep together,” continued 
the Italian, who seemed to be strangely vexed and 
disturbed at the decision of my friend. 

“ Never mind me, Phil. Go ahead with him, 
and I shall see you when we get to Milan,” said 
Larry. 

But I can take the two better than one,” an¬ 
swered Cuore. 

How’s that ? ” I inquired. 

“ I have a pass for three persons,” said he, taking 
a paper from his pocket, which he showed to me. 

It was written in German, and he knew that I 
was entirely ignorant of that language. He per¬ 
mitted me to see it, but not to take it from his 
hands. 

“ Let me see it,” added Larry. “ I will take it 
to our orderly. He is a Swiss, and speaks German 
like a Dutchman. Let me take it.” 

No — pardon ; I must not let my pass go out of 
my own hands,” replied Cuore, folding up the paper 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 201 

and returning it to his pocket. I must be very 
prudent. I am in the employ of the Austrians as 
well as the French ; but I give them only such in¬ 
formation as will be useful to United Italy. 

Cuore chuckled, and looked very cunning. It 
seemed very strange to me that a pass which would 
answer for three persons Avould not do for two; 
and I expressed myself to this effect. 

Ah, you see I have promised to bring over to 
the Austrian general two men who can tell better 
than I where the French are posted. You can tell 
him ; but, of course, you will not give him any cor¬ 
rect information. I have obtained this pass for 
you, and both must go, or neither.’^ 

“ I can’t go, Phil,” said Larry. 

“ You may return before the great battle takes 
place,” suggested Cuore. There may be no fight 
for a week.” 

And there may be one to-morrow.” 

No, not possible. The allies are not in position 
to fight a battle yet.” 

No one can know when it will come off. I dare 
say his majesty the Emperor of France has laid his 
plans well, for he is a very clever fellow ; but even 
he cannot tell when the battle will be fought. He 


202 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


may intend to set the ball rolling in three days, or ^ 
a week; but, I take it, the Austrians may have a 
finger in the pie, as well as the emperor and my¬ 
self, and if they take a notion to fight a battle to¬ 
night even, we can’t help ourselves. The emperor 
and I are not going to keep still, and let them whip 
us; so you see 1 can’t go. It is morally, socially, 
and politically impossible,” continued Larry. 

I can go without you,” I replied. 

Certainly you can, Phil.” 

If I have one, I must have two,” persisted 
Cuore. 

Can’t you tell the Austrian general that one of 
your men had a corn on his little toe, and couldn’t 
come ? ” 

No,” replied the Italian, shaking his head vio¬ 
lently ; and it was plain that he did not intend to 
visit Milan without my friend. 

‘‘ Here’s the general,” said Larry. We’ll lay 
the matter before him.” 

My friend stated the case to General Eberle, who 
at once declared that no battle was possible within 
twenty-four hours, and that the emperor would 
choose his own time, in spite of the Austrians. 

But this is very perilous business,” he added. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


203 


“ Then I would like to engage in it/^ said my 
obstinate friend. 

I can make it very safe/’ interposed Cuore, 
with the utmost deference. 

The general turned to the Italian, and began to 
question him rather sharply in regard to his busi¬ 
ness in the camp. Cuore replied very promptly, 
and substantially in accordance with what he had 
said to us. 

Show the Austrian pass, signore,” added 
Larry. 

No,” interposed the general, walking away. 
“ If he were not your friend, gentlemen, I would 
order ze arrest of ze man.” 

“But he is in the employ of the French,” I 
replied. 

“I don’t know,” answered the general, shrug¬ 
ging his shoulders. 

“ He brought information to General Canrobert, 
this morning, from Milan.” 

“ I don’t know; I can’t say,” added the general. 

He declared that a spy could be known only to 
his immediate employers. He knew nothing about 
the man. If he saw an Austrian pass, he should 
be obliged to arrest him; therefore he would not 


204 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


see it. He seemed to have no opinion whatever 
in regard to Cuore, and left us free to do as we 
deemed advisable. I had some suspicions in re¬ 
gard to the Italian; but I could not trace them to 
any reasonable foundation. I discussed the matter 
for half an hour with Larry, and then we decided 
to visit Milan. 



THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


205 


CHAPTER XY. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY FLOAT DOWN THE CANAL, 
AND ARE DISTURBED BY FRENCH PICKET GUARDS. 

T HAD a certain confidence in Cuore, which led 
I me to believe that he was able to do what he 
promised, though I was not willing to give myself 
blindly into his charge. The general knew noth¬ 
ing about him, and said nothing to weaken my 
confidence. I could not see why he should be so 
anxious to have Larry go to Milan, when my 
friend had no business there, as I had. We walked 
back to the place where we had left the Italian, 
and told him we were read}^ to depart. Of course 
anything like baggage was out of the question; 
but I had put the locket and bracelets of my child¬ 
hood into a pocket inside of my vest, for I had not 
dared to leave these valuables in my bag at the 
camp. The shawl and the dress were in my 
trunk at Genoa. 


206 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


‘‘We are rather too early yet,’^ said Cuore, as 
he glanced around him. 

“ Why too early ? ’’ I inquired. 

“The less time we have to spare, the fewer 
questions we shall have to answer. I have a 
couple of letters I wish to post,’^ added the Ital¬ 
ian, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “ I must 
send them to Novara.’^ 

“You can leave them at the camp. An orderly 
goes up to the town with the mail every day,’^ 
said Larry. “ Give them to me, and I will see 
that they are sent.’^ 

“ I will go to the headquarters,” replied Cuore, 
still fumbling in his pockets for the letters. “I 
must give the orderly the money to pay the 
postage.” 

We went to the house in which the brigade 
headquarters were located. Cuore gave his let¬ 
ters to the orderly, who put them in a leather bag 
which hung on the wall. 

“ Now we are ready to go,” said Cuore. “ We 
have a long walk before us, and 1 hope you are 
fresh and strong.” 

“ I can walk all night,” I replied. 

“ So can I; but hurry up your cakes, signore,” 
added Larry. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


207 


My cakes ? repeated the Italian. I have 
been to supper.’’ 

“ So have I; and therefore let us keep moving. 
We go as though we were attending the funeral 
of a general of division.” 

We must not hurry. We shall pass the French 
lines about five kilometres from here, and I do not 
wish to go through till about dark.” 

Why not ? If you have a pass for the crowd, 
what difference does it make ? ” replied Larry, im¬ 
patiently. 

It will make much delay. I have a pass signed, 
by General Canrobert; but — ” 

“Let me-see it,” interposed Larry. 

“ Not here ; by and by, when we halt for a time, 
you shall see it. But I wish to go through the 
French line without showing the pass.” 

“Why so? Do you want to be shot?” 

“ No, no; of course I don’t want to be shot. 
When it is dark I can get through with less delay. 
If I show the pass, the soldiers will send for the 
sergeant, the sergeant for the sous-lieutenant, he 
for the captain, the captain for the general of brig¬ 
ade, and the general of brigade for the general of 
division ; then it must go to the field marshal, and 


208 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

from him to the emperor; and we shall not get 
through till to-morrow night.” 

Then you are going to run through.” 

Precisely so; but if any one stops us, I have 
the pass for three persons.” 

“ If any one can go through the pickets as 
easily as you suggest, they don’t amount to 
much,” said Larry. 

^^You don’t understand me,” 

That’s so ; I don’t.” 

I know the country, and I have a grand plan 
to do this business right. You have seen some 
canals in this part of Italy.” 

Plenty of them,” answered Larry. • 

You’ve seen that they have trees on each side.” 

Yes; I haven’t been over a ditch that did not 
have a row of trees or bushes on both sides.” 

‘‘ I shall bring you to a canal that runs into the 
river,” continued Cuore. 

“ What river? ” I asked. 

‘^The Ticino, which flows into the Po near 
Pavia. This river is the picket line for the Aus¬ 
trians on one side, and the allies on the other; but 
neither line goes very near the river. On the 
canal, one kilometre from the stream, I have a boat, 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


209 


in which I came over this morning — a petit ba¬ 
teau, in which we can float down to the river, 
in the shade of the trees, without being seen.^’ 

“ Of course the pickets will hear the sound of 
the oars or paddle,” suggested Larry. 

We shall use no oars.” 

But the water in the canal must run from the 
river.” 

No, no; it runs the other way.” 

That’s a humbug,” protested Larry. 

^^What do you call humbug?” 

“ What’s the canal for, if it don’t run from the 
river? ” 

It is to wet the land, to — what you call it ? — 
to irritate — no ; -to — ” 

‘‘ Irrigate,” I suggested. 

“ Ah, to irrigate the land ! You are right. The 
canal flows from the river in one place, farther up, 
and comes back into the river in another place, 
below the first. From the big canal flow a great 
many small ones through the land, so that the wa¬ 
ter can be spread all over the fields.” 

Precisely so; I understand it, Larry.” 

So do I; and we will grant that the water in 
this part of the canal runs into the river.” 

14 


210 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE^ OR 


“ I have told you all the way then,’^ resumed 
Cuore. “ The flow of the water will take the little 
boat into ‘the river. We cross over, and go into 
a canal on the other side.’’ 

And I suppose that canal, to suit our conven¬ 
ience, runs from the river,” laughed my friend. 

“ You are right,” replied Cuore. Its waters 
will carry us to a safe place. Then we walk up 
to Magenta, where there is very often a train for 
Milan.” 

No doubt of it; everything seems to have been 
arranged especially for our convenience.” 

Ah, you see, I know the country ! That is the 
reason the French generals sent me on a mission 
for them,” added the Italian, with much self-com¬ 
placency. 

“ Do you expect to float down this canal with¬ 
out being noticed by the sentinels? ” I inquired. 

“I do; but what matter if we are noticed ? 
You wear the uniform of French officers. If we 
are stopped I have only to show the pass of Gen¬ 
eral Canrobert.” 

I had become so accustomed to the military sa¬ 
lute, greeting us at almost every step of our walk, 
which, of course, Larry and I returned, that I had 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


211 


almost forgotten my existence as a civilian. We 
passed from one camp to another without diffi¬ 
culty, for our uniform was all the pass we re¬ 
quired. It did not occur to me then that we were 
conducting Cuore, instead of the reverse, until, 
when we had finished our conversation, and the 
Italian walked a little ahead of us, he was chal¬ 
lenged by the sentinel. A word from Larry, bad 
French as it was, enabled him to pass. 

We walked our five kilometres, or about three 
miles, and reached the canal which our guide had 
described. It was half a mile from the nearest 
camp, where the last line of sentinels was posted, 
and the space between it and the river was pa- 
troled by pickets. On the other side of the 
stream, Austrian guns were posted behind field¬ 
works. The country was covered with long lines 
of mulberry trees, between which, in the same row, 
were grape-vines trained up between the trees. 
The land had been sown with grain, but the march 
of armies had been over it, so that the crop was 
ruined. 

Cuore led us to a point on the canal which was 
overgrown with osiers, from which the owner evi¬ 
dently obtained his basket-stock. Just above it a 


1 


212 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

party of French officers were bathing. Among 
the osiers lay the boat. It was a flat-bottom affair, 
half full of water. We dragged it up and turned 
it over, but it did not look like a very promising 
craft for a long cruise. 

“It leaks badly,’' said Larry. 

“ No ; not at all,” replied Cuore. “ I filled it with 
water to prevent the soldiers from taking it.” 

“ I say, signore, if you mean to drown us, say so 
in the beginning,” added Larry, glancing at the 
frail bateau. 

No, you cannot be drowned. The water is not 
deep in the canal, and not deep in the river. I 
have come two miles in that boat this morning.” 

“The boat is well enough,” I interposed, as I 
seated myself in the forward part. 

“ Whatever you say about boats, Phil, I be¬ 
lieve,” added my friend, taking his place in the 
stern. 

“ Now you will take these,” continued Cuore, 
drawing a couple of fish-poles from the osiers. 

“ 0, then this is a fishing excursion—is it?” ex¬ 
claimed Larry, as he examined the hook and line. 

‘•'Yes; the pickets will make no trouble when 
they see two officers fishing in the canal, or in the 
river.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


213 


I say, signore, is there any danger of catching 
a fish here ? ’’ 

Plenty of fish here.” 

“ I like fishing; but we have no bait.” 

“ Yes, there is bait in the tin box under the 
seat.” 

Larry opened the box, and found a variety of 
live bugs, one of which he impaled on his hook. I 
dropped my line to him, and he baited my hook in 
the same manner. 

“ Now let the boat float down the canal, and 
don’t use the oars,” said Cuore. 

^‘But are you not going with us?” I asked, 
when I saw by his movements that we were to be 
alone. 

Not yet; I will get into the boat in a few mo¬ 
ments. The current will hardly move you, and I 
wish to see where the picket line is. 1 will not 
lose sight of you. Don’t be alarmed,” said Cuore, 
in a low tone. 

Where are you going ? ” demanded Larry. 

Only a short distance from the canal. When I 
see just where the pickets are, I can manage it 
better. I wish them not to see us till we get into 
the river.” 


214 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Then they will fire upon us,” I suggested. 

No, they will not. They will see that you are 
French officers.” 

But the Austrians will.” 

“No, no, no; the Austrians expect us. They 
know we are coming,” answered the Italian, impa¬ 
tiently, as he pushed off the boat, and disappeared 
behind the osiers. 

We did not see him again very soon. 

The boat floated out into the canal, which was 
not more than ten feet wide. We dropped our 
lines overboard. Our craft hardly moved. 

“ I have a bite ! ” exclaimed Larry. 

“ Pull him in, then ! ” 

“Lost him! Well, thaPs just my luck. If I 
bait for anything I never catch it.” 

“ But the fish jump into your basket, without 
giving you the trouble to catch them. In a few 
years, more or less, you will be Sir Lawrence 
Grimsby; and I suppose you won’t know such 
small fish as I am then.” 

“ Dry up, Phil I You are the first real friend I 
ever had. Y'ou lend me money and tell me I am a 
vagabond in the same instant. I don’t talk grati¬ 
tude, or any such bosh; but — no matter; I have 
another bite. Gone again^ as usual! ” 


■ THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


215 


“ I wonder where Cuore is,” I added, not feeling 
much interest in fishing, while our boat was bear¬ 
ing us slowly towards the hostile lines. 

“ I don^t know. You never bet, Phil, nor I, 
since I knew you. But six months ago, I would 
have gone three against two that this Cuore is a 
knave.” 

Do you think so ? ” 

I do, 'pon my soul.” 

I have had some suspicions.” 

“ So have I; but I can’t make it out; so I try to 
think he is all right,” replied Larry. What is 
the fellow driving at ? Why is he so anxious that 
I should go to Milan, when 1 haven’t the least 
desire to go there at pi’esent? ” 

I don’t understand him; and I don’t see 
through this business. Why should he leave us 
floating down this canal alone ? ” 

“ I don’t know. I don’t like to back out of any¬ 
thing, Phil; but I expect, as soon as we get to the 
river, to have a bullet put through my cap. I 
don’t think it will go through my head, because a 
man that is born to be hanged won’t be shot.” 

I am willing to back out any time when it is 
not safe to go ahead. I have no fancy whatever 


216 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


for having an Austrian bullet go through even 
my cap. In my case, however it may be with 
you, I am afraid it would go through my head 
also.’' 

I dropped my fishing tackle, and picked up 
an oar, with which I pushed the boat up to the 
bank. 

“ 0, let her slide a while longer ! The French 
pickets will not fire at us. Just attend to your 
fishing; we are safe enough in the canal,” said 
Larry, laughing at my fears. 

“ I believe in backing out in good season.” 

There is time enough. Cuore may, after all, 
be an honest man, though I don’t know-of any 
particular reason why he should be so anxious to 
help us into Milan. Has he asked you for any 
money ? ” 

“ No ; he never even hinted at payment for any¬ 
thing,” I replied. 

“ If he means anything, of course it is to make 
some money out of us; but he wouldn’t make 
anything by letting the Austrians shoot us, for I 
haven’t a big pile with me.” 

I permitted the boat to float again with the 
current, but I was fully resolved not to venture 


c 










\ 


4 


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I 


1 


I 

* 


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♦ I 




The Arrest of Phil and Larry. Page 217 . 














































































































































































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


217 


upon the river, unless the Italian should give me 
some stronger assurance than we had yet received 
of his ability to protect us. We had not yet ex¬ 
amined his pass from Canrobert, but it was still 
light enough to do so. We continued on our 
course till I saw the river ahead. We looked 
about for the Italian, but he was not to be seen. 

This is as far as I will go, Larry,’^ I said, 
taking the oar again, when the boat was within 
fifty yards of the river. 

I’m with you, Phil.” 

We will wait here till Cuore comes back,” I 
replied, pushing the bateau to the bank. 

“ Perhaps the fellow has been arrested himself 
— who knows?” laughed Larry. 

^^It is not improbable. He walked through 
several lines of sentinels on the strength of our 
uniforms.” 

If he has been arrested, of course we don’t go 
to Milan to-night,” said Larry. 

Non, messieurs; vous ne pouvez pas alter d 
Milan cette nuit^’’ said a French soldier, rising 
from the ground, and pointing his musket at 
my head. 

Three others appeared at the same moment, and 


218 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


imitated the dangerous example of the speaker, 
who had said, No, gentlemen, you cannot go to 
Milan to-night.” 

Here we are, Phil,” said Larry, shrugging his 
shoulders. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


219 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY DISCUSS THE SITUATION, 
AND FACE A DRUM-HEAD COURT-MARTIAL. 



F course the soldier who had acted as spokes- 


man for the picket guard understood Eng¬ 
lish, or he could not so readily have understood 
Larry^s remark about going to Milan that night. 
The four men kept their muskets persistently 
pointed at our heads, as though they believed that 
gunpowder would not explode, or with a reckless 
disregard of the sanctity of human life. However, 
I did not consider myself in any especial peril, 
though I wished they would point their guns a 
little lower. I believed that the affair was all a 
mistake, which the appearance of Cuore would 
rectify, or which an explanation on our part would 
correct. 

“ I beg your pardon, gentlemen; but may I 
trouble you to laud ? said the soldier in front of 


220 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


the others, in French, and with genuine French 
politeness, albeit it was utterly hollow and empty. 

Certainly,” I replied. You speak English ? ” 
^'Yes; I can speak English; but 1 learn from 
the description of two spies that one of them 
speaks French a little, and the other speaks it very 
well. You are the one who speaks it very well, 
I suppose,” laughed the soldier, who was a ser¬ 
geant. 

I contrive to make myself understood,” I an¬ 
swered, as I stepped on shore, followed by Larry. 

The soldier was so polite and considerate that I 
did not consider the situation as at all desperate, 
and I could not then classify it as one of the strug¬ 
gles of a soldier, though it assumed a different 
aspect in a short time. 

You spoke of a description, sergeant,” said I, 
in plain English. Do I understand you to say 
that you have a description of my friend and my¬ 
self?” 

Yes, sir; and I must say, that you answer to 
the description marvellously well. Dressed in 
the uniform of French officers,” he replied, taking 
a paper from his pocket, and reading therefrom. 

Brigade staff.’ ^ Young.’ May I be allowed to 
inquire your ages, gentlemen ? ” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


221 


“ I am nineteen; and this is my twin friend/^ 
laughed Larry, who seemed to consider the affair 
as an excellent joke. 

Thank yon, gentlemen. “ Now, will you pardon 
me if I ask upon whose staff you serve ? ’’ contin¬ 
ued the sergeant, blandly. 

“ Certainly ; it will afford me very great pleas¬ 
ure to inform you that we are attached to the staff 
of General Eberle, in the capacity of volunteer 
aids,^^ answered Larry. 

“ Precisely so,’' exclaimed the spokesman of the 
soldiers, glancing at his companions, and translat¬ 
ing the reply; and they smiled, as though the 
party understood the matter. 

“There’s no doubt about it,” added Larry. 
“ You seem to be amused.” 

“ The description says the two Austrian spies 
would claim to be members of General Eberle’s 
staff. Will you allow, me to look at your coat?” 
continued the sergeant, stepping up to my friend. 
“ And yours? ” he added, placing his hand upon my 
breast. “ There it is ! a hole in the coat on the 
left breast. I think that is sufficient. You- are 
the gentlemen we are required to arrest.” 

“Probably we are,” replied Larry. “You have 


222 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


had it all your own way, so far. Now I will thank 
you to answer some of our questions. Do you 
know one Signor Cuore, an Italian ? ” 

I have not the honOr/' answered the sergeant. 

‘‘ Have you seen an Italian with a stove-pipe 
hat?’’ asked Larry, describing our guide more 
fully. 

I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” replied the 
polite sergeant; but I am to obtain information, 
and not give it. I can answer no questions. It is 
my duty to escort you to the headquarters of our 
brigade.” 

Right, sergeant; do your duty like a man, and 
stand by United Italy to the end; but you have 
made a mistake,” continued my friend. 

“Not possible, gentlemen. You answer the de¬ 
scription perfectly.” 

“ Where did you obtain the description ? ” I in¬ 
quired, with great simplicity. 

The sergeant only shrugged his shoulders, and 
made no reply. He even laughed at the folly of 
the question I proposed. 

“ What do you take us to be?” I demanded. 

“ Pardon, gentlemen, but we take you to be 
spies, in the employ of the Austrians, on your 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 223 

way to Milan, to inform the Austrian of the num¬ 
ber and position of the French and Italian troops, 
replied the sergeant, in French. 

What does he say, Phil 

I told my friend what the sergeant said ; and ’ 
certainly it was a very grave charge, considering 
that we were on the dividing line between the 
hostile armies, and on the eve of a great battle. 

“ Are you not satisfied, gentlemen ? ’’ inquired 
the bland sergeant. 

No, sir ; we are not. We are what we claim to 
be — volunteer aids on the staff of General Eberle. 
You are making a mistake in arresting us.’^ 

There is another point in the description; and 
since you are not satisfied, we will proceed a little 
farther. I judged from your conversation that 
you intended to go to Milan.” 

“ Have you seen Cuore ? ” asked Larry. 

I answer no questions. Will the gentlemen 
oblige me by showing their papers ? ” 

^^To be sure. I am willing to show all my 
papers; but I have nothing except some old let¬ 
ters, and a letter of credit,” answered Larry; and 
he emptied his pockets. 

I produced the contents of my pockets, and the 


224 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


sergeant proceeded to examine my diary, which 
contained pockets' wherein I kept my papers. 
One after another he opened them, and finally 
came to one on which the porter of the hotel in 
Nice had written the address of my mother’s 
Italian friend and host at Milan. 

Signor Bertani, Cor so de BosinarCj No. 21,” 
continued the sergeant, reading the paper. “ Do 
you know the gentleman whose address you have ? ” 
“ I do not,” I answered. 

Did you intend to visit him in Milan ? ” 

« I did.” 

And, of course, you know that he is a traitor to 
his country, and a friend of the Austrians ? ” added 
the sergeant, rather warmly. 

1 have been told so ; but I have nothing to do 
with his politics. I expect to find my mother at 
his house in Milan.” 

“ Old, oui, oui — oui — owi,” said the soldier, 
shrugging his shoulders and laughing, as though 
he did not put implicit confidence in the truth of 
my statement. 

“ I must escort you to the headquarters of the 
general of brigade.” 

Before you hang us, you will oblige us very 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER.' 


225 


much by sending for General Eberl^,” said Larry, 
lightly. 

do not hang you. You shall die like sol¬ 
diers— by the bullet, and not by the rope. It 
takes too long to hang men.” 

I say, Phil, he takes a cheerful view of the sub¬ 
ject — donh he ? ” said Larry, turning to me. 

“ I am afraid the situation is more serious than 
you seem to think it is,” I suggested. 

“ How can it be serious? We can send for Gen¬ 
eral Eberle, and he will make it all right in an in¬ 
stant.” 

Perhaps they won’t take the trouble to send 
for him. These French officers have an ugly habit 
of catching a spy and hanging him without much 
formality,” I replied. “ Of course you know what 
a drum-head court-martial is.” 

“ I do.” 

“ I have heard a French officer say that ten 
minutes was time enough for both trial and exe¬ 
cution.” 

That would be no joke.” 

We walked along, side by side, with the soldiers 
around us in such a way that there was no chance 
to escape. We were conducted first to a lieu- 
15 


226 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


tenant, who promptly ordered us to be taken to 
headquarters. 

I am afraid we are in a bad scrape, Larry,” I 
said, as we marched over the unoccupied land. 

I don’t think so. I tell you we are not to be 
hanged or shot without a hearing of some kind.” 

I doubt whether they will take the trouble to 
inform our general of their actions.” 

“ These men are very polite and considerate.” 

“ But they will hang or shoot you just as quick, 
for all that. The man that cuts your throat will 
do it very politely; but he will do it none the less. 
I can’t say that I blame these men. * The case looks 
very strong against us. The sergeant heard 3mu 
say that we intended to go to Milan, and he found 
the address of a traitorous Italian upon me. We 
were in a boat, headed towards the Austrian lines 
also.” 

Yet the simple truth will show that we are not 
Austrians, or in their emplo3\” 

“Yes; if we can persuade them to believe the 
simple truth, which may be a ver3" difficult matter.” 

“ By the way, Phil, what is your opinion of Signor 
Cuore ? ” 

“ I presume we shall not differ in opinion just 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


227 


now. But I cannot comprehend what the rascal’s 
object is. Why should he get us into such a scrape 
as this ? ” 

I don’t know; but I should like to be intro¬ 
duced to Signor Cuore just now,” added Larry, 
with emphasis. 

“Very likely he will appear against us.” 

I don’t believe he will. He evidently means 
to have us shot, and that our case shah be finished 
in short metre. Since he insisted upon my going' 
to Milan, when I had not the least desire to go at 
present, I conclude that he particularly desires that 
I should be shot.” 

Possibly he is impartial, and only desires to 
have us served alike.” 

The villain started us in that boat alone, in order 
to bring about just what has happened to ns.” 

Undoubtedly he laid his plans very carefully. 

I would give something handsome to know what 
his motives are. I have no enemies that I know 
of in this part of the world.” 

“ Are you not mixed up with those Collingsbys, 
your mother’s brothers, and your grandfather, 
too ? ” 

don’t think they have any ill-will towards 


228 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


me/' I answered, giving an earnest thought to the 
subject. 

“But, according to your own story, Phil, they 
believe that you are an impostor, trying to impose 
upon the credulity of Mrs. Farringford, a member 
of their family. Perhaps they are afraid that you 
will succeed in making that lady believe you are 
really her son. They hate your father, and don't 
choose to have anything to do with him. Isn't it 
likely that they have employed Signor Cuore to 
get rid of you in his mild and pleasant manner, 
that is to say, in having you hanged or shot as a 
spy?" 

“ It is possible ; but the Collingsbys are very 
respectable people, to say the least, and I am not 
willing to believe that they would resort to such 
an infamous expedient." 

“ I don't know, Phil. They are respectable, as 
you say, and they wish to keep respectable. They 
believe that the Farringford blood is not respec¬ 
table, and they wish to keep it at a safe distance. 
That's what's the matter, Phil." 

“ I cannot believe it." 

“ Your mother must have heard something about 
you before this time. All the Chicago Collingsbys 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


229 


know all about you, even to Miss Marion; and you 
may depend upon it, some of them have given her 
a hint before this time. As she must be more 
interested in the subject than any of the rest of 
them, she may have manifested a desire to inquire 
into the matter, which her brothers do not like. 
Of course they knew that you were on your way 
to Europe, to find your mother.’’ 

1 don’t see how they should know it,” I added. 

They must know it. Didn’t you get a letter in 
Paris from Miss Marian Collingsby ? ” 

‘‘ I did ; but her father will not permit her even 
to speak of this subject to him.” 

‘‘You are as simple-minded as an infant, Phil! 
Marian told her mother all about it; and she told 
the old man, who, while he pretended to care 
nothing at all about it, kept up a tremendous 
thinking, and privately wrote to his agents in 
London to look after you, and not let you see Mrs. 
Farringford on any account whatever. Then the 
London agent employed this Cuore, who was on 
the train with us to Paris, and has not lost sight of 
us since. I tell you, Phil, that little scene in the 
garden of the Tuileries was got up by him merely 
to make our acquaintance, and secure our confi- 


230 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


dence by doing us a favor. It is just as clear as 
dock mud to me, Phil.” 

‘‘ I don’t say that you are wrong, Larry; but if 
your theory is correct, why Avas the villain so 
particular that you should go to Milan, and be 
sacrificed with me?” 

“ That may look like a stumper to you, but I can 
explain it to my own satisfaction. This felloAV 
knows that I am a particular friend of yours, and 
he knows very well, if you disappeared, that 1 
should find you if I had to explore the continent to 
do so. He knows very Avell that I should find him, 
too. I think the villain understands me first rate, 
and believes that it Avould not be a prudent step to 
separate us. I’m right, Phil.” 

I don’t knoAv that it makes mucli difference 
whether you are right or wrong, now, Larry. We 
are in a bad scrape.” 

But we shall get out of it, and give Cuore a 
chance to try the game over again. I should like 
to put my paAvs upon him.” 

‘^He Avill keep out of the Avay as long as he can. 
Here is the line of the camps, and Ave shall soon 
knoAv Avhat is to become of us.” 

We were conducted to the headquarters of the 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


231 


general of brigade, where the sergeant reported 
his prisoners, and asked for orders. After waiting 
half an hour, several officers appeared, but there 
was no general of brigade among them. They 
seated themselves on camp-stools, and strangely 
enough, a drum lay on the ground near them, 
though I am sure it had not been placed there 
with an}^ reference to the present proceedings. It 
was an ominous emblem to me, and I did not like 
the appearance of it. I was unable to determine 
whether the officers before us constituted a court- 
martial or not, for I could not hear any of the pro¬ 
ceedings. Larry was called up first, and one of 
the officers proceeded to question him in French. 
He could not even understand the questions that 
were put to him. Then one of them addressed 
him in German; and Larry answered, 

The sergeant suggested that the other prisoner 
spoke French^ and 1 was called up. 

It appeared that the sergeant and his fellow- 
soldiers had already told their story, and that we 
were really condemned already. I was asked to 
explain my relations with Signor Bertani, and how 
I happened to be on my way to Milan in the 
uniform of a French officer. Before I said any- 


232 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


thing, I produced my passport, which I had 
stitched into my coat for safety. 

You are an American?” said one of the 
officers, exhibiting much surprise, as he examined 
this important paper. 

I am.” 

‘‘ Good on your head, Phil! You have hit the 
nail in the right place this time,” exclaimed Larry. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


233 


CHAPTER XYII. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY ARE SAVED FROM A HARD 
FATE BY A MOVEMENT OF THE BRIGADE. 

“ T F you are an American, how do you happen 
M to be in the army of France ? ” asked the 
officer, who appeared to be the highest in rank, 
and who was doubtless the president of the court- 
martial, if it was such. 

“We are both volunteer aids-de-camp, on the 
staff of General Eberffi,’’ I replied. 

“ Is it possible ? ” added the officer, glancing at 
his companions. 

They looked at one. another, and then examined 
my passport again, whose signature and broad 
seal could not be ignored. Then they began to 
puzzle themselves over the personal description, 
and I saw that one of them could read English. 
The comparison could not but be^satisfactory, for 
the shape of my chin and the color of my eyes 
were correctly given, as well as the other details. 


234 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OB 


^Ms your friend an American also?” asked the 
oflicer. 

“He was born in England, but has lived in 
America from his childhood,” 1 answered, believ¬ 
ing that the simple truth is always better than 
falsehood and deception. 

One of the officers walked up to Larry, and 
spoke to him in German; but of course neither he 
nor I iniderstood a word that was said. 

“ replied Larry, shrugging his shoulders. 

The speaker then explained that he had told my 
friend he might depart in peace. Such a permis¬ 
sion, if he had understood it, would have surprised 
him into a word or a look that might have be¬ 
trayed him; but Larry made no sign that could 
excite a suspicion. 

“ Has 3 ^our friend a passport ? ” asked the chief 
officer, turning to me again. 

“ He has not,” I replied. “ He left New York 
rather suddenly, and did not think to procure a 
passport, as one has but little need of it now.” 

“ But you were going to Milan ? ” said the offi¬ 
cer, returning to the suspicious side of the ques¬ 
tion. 

“ I wished to go to Milan because my mother is 
there.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


235 


The military gentleman shrugged his shoulders, 
and was evidently incredulous. 

And you have the address of Signor Bertani, 
who is an Italian, but in the employ of the Aus¬ 
trians. No, no, no V’ 

My mother is his guest,” I added. 

“ No, no ! ” 

“ I speak only the truth.” 

Humph — possibly.” 

“We have already declared that we were at¬ 
tached to the staff of General Eberl^. If you 
have any doubt in regard to the truth of what we 
say, you can refer to that distinguished officer,” I 
suggested. 

“ General Eberle is seven or eight kilometres 
distant. You refer to some one who is conven¬ 
iently removed from us. We make short work 
with spies,” continued the officer. “ We may be 
ordered to march in half an hour, and we have no 
time to waste upon persons taken in the very act 
of entering the enemy’s lines. We have good evi¬ 
dence that you are spies.” 

“ You refer to Signor Cuore, who is a spy him¬ 
self,” I answered, with some spirit. “ He has a 
pass in German for three persons to go through 
the Austrian lines.” 


236 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


The officers looked at each other and smiled. 

For two persons/’ said the officer, correcting 

me. 

He told us it was for three. Neither of us can 
speak or read German.” 

Here is the pass,” added the speaker, taking 
from his pocket the paper which Cuore had exhib¬ 
ited, and showing it to me. 

Giving the pass to the gentleman who read and 
spoke German, he desired him to translate it to 
us. He gave me the contents of the paper in 
French. It was an order requiring picket guards 
and sentinels to pass Philip Farringford and Law¬ 
rence Grimsby through the Austrian lines, and to 
give them every facility for reaching the general 
in command at Milan. I told Larry in English 
what the pass was, and we both understood why 
Cuore had declined to have the Swiss orderly read 
it. Of course the paper was a forgery; but Ave 
were utterly incapable of fathoming the ultimate 
purpose of Cuore in leading us into this trap. As 
the officer seemed to be very patient, in spite of 
his declaration that he had no time to waste upon 
such persons as we appeared to be, I began to ex¬ 
plain our relations with General Eberle and with 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


237 


Cuore. The party listened attentively, and per* 
mitted me to finish my narrative. I doubt not 1 
made some blunders in the use of the French lan¬ 
guage, for several times I was called upon to re¬ 
peat what I had said. When I had concluded my 
story, there was a general shrugging of shoulders, 
and a general smile of incredulity. 

It was now nearly dark, and the officers, after 
consulting together for a moment, seated them¬ 
selves on camp-stools around the drum which I 
had before observed. Larry and myself were 
ordered to stand at an opening in the ring oppo¬ 
site the officer who had questioned us. I con¬ 
cluded that the formal proceedings were about to 
commence. 

It looks serious, Larry,’’ I said. 

That’s so; but you mustn’t give it up, Phil. 
Make a spread-eagle speech. If I could speak the 
language, I would do so. Shake your passport at 
them.” 

“ I am afraid it will do no good.” 

Try it, and see. I have no idea of being shot 
in this way b}^ these frog-eaters, when I stand 
ready to fight for them. It isn’t giving a fellow a 
fair show.” 


238 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Have you anythiug to say why you should 
not be shot as spies ? ’’ said the president of the 
court-martial. 

“We demand a fair trial,” I replied. “ We are 
Americans, and we are in the service of France, 
ready to fight her battles. We are not spies, and 
we ask- for the advice and assistance of the nearest 
representative of the United States government. 
We also demand the privilege of confronting our 
accuser. He is a villain and a liar.” 

I spoke with energy; and, adopting the sugges¬ 
tion of Larry, I flourished my passport with vigor 
in the face of the presiding officer. 

“You wish to see Signor Cuore?” added the 
president. 

“ We do.” 

“ Bring Signor Cuore.” 

The proceedings were suspended; but some 
time elapsed before the Italian was produced. I 
saw by his actions that he came very unwillingly. 
He was placed by the side of the drum in the 
centre of the circle, and required to state what he 
knew about us. He declared that he had followed 
us from Paris, where he had seen us in commu¬ 
nication with several Austrians, and that he had 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


239 


watched us up to the moment we had attempted 
to pass the river, when he deemed it his duty to 
inform the picket-guard of our intentions, which • 
he had done. 

Where did you get the pass which you allege 
is ours ? ” I asked. 

I found it where you lost it,” replied Cuore, 
chuckling as though he had done a clever thing. 

“ Where did you find it ? ” I demanded, en¬ 
ergetically. 

You dropped it when you pulled out your 
handkerchief.” 

You do not say where you found it.” 

“ On the bank of the canal, before you got into 
the boat.” 

Were you with us at the time?” 

No ; I was behind you.” 

But not in company with us ? ” 

No, certainly not.” 

Were you at the camp of General Eberld 
with us ? ” 

No; never.” 

Did you not come, down from the camp of 
General Eberle to the canal ? ” 

“ I did not.” 


240 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

All right, my boy! If. the Evil One should 
look for a liar, where in all Italy could we put 
you ? added Larry, who had listened attentive¬ 
ly to the conversation, which was carried on in 
English. 

He would take you, and not look any farther,’^ 
replied Cuore. 

‘‘ What are you saying ? ” demanded the pres¬ 
ident, impatiently, for he did not understand 
English. 

I. related the substance of the conversation 
in French, and Cuore indorsed my version as 
correct. 

“ Now, Monsieur le Chef de Bataillon,^^ I con¬ 
tinued, guessing at the rank of the oflScer, this 
man says he was not with us at the camp of 
General Eberl4, or at any other time.” 

Certainly not,” added Cuore. 

‘‘ If you would do me the favor to send for the 
officer of the guard at the next post, he will tell 
you that we passed this Italian through his lines.” 

“ He only wants to gain time,” replied Cuore, 
with one of his politest bows. 

“ I have not time to send to any post.” 

Will you condemn two innocent men — Ameri¬ 
cans ? ” I pleaded. 


Tiik Couut-Mautial. Page 238 



y{ ' 











































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


241 


The evidence is very full and satisfactorjL’^ 
But this man is a liar. He showed this pass 
at the camp of our general.’’ 

No. All that he said proves to be true. We 
found the address of Signor Bertani upon you. If 
you are in the French service, you are deserters; 
if not, you are spies, for you were trying to pass 
our lines, and spoke of going to Milan, but not to¬ 
night. It is a plain case. Gentlemen, give me 
your attention,” said the oflScer, addressing his 
companions. 

Just at this moment the tap of a drum and the 
heavy tramp of a considerable body of men were 
heard in the area between the line and the river. 
They attracted the attention of all the party. An 
officer with hasty step walked up to the members 
of the court-martial, and asked for the general of 
brigade in command. 

“ Good ! Monsieur Foucault! ” shouted Larry, 
at the top of his lungs. 

Ah, Monsieur Grimsby ! ” exclaimed the officer, 
walking up to my friend and grasping his hand. 

“ Where is General Eberl4 ? ” asked Larry. 

Our brigade is ordered to bivouac here, near 
the river. Give us joy ! We shall be in the fight. 

16 


242 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


But, pardon, I have an order to deliver to the 
general of brigade at this point/’ 

“ Pardon, also. We are in trouble, and if you 
don’t get us out of the scrape, we shall be shot as 
spies in five minutes more.” 

“ Impossible ! ” 

Fact, my boy I Speak a good word for us, and 
it will be all right.” 

Messieurs, these gentlemen are my comrades 
on the staff of General Eberle.” 

Is it possible ? ” exclaimed the principal officer, 
as though it was an entirely nevv idea to him. 

“ You can bet high on it,” added Larry, whose 
French ear was improving wonderfully. 

Suddenly my friend sprang away from me, and I 
saw him pounce upon the lying Italian, who, seeing 
that the current had turned in our favor, was trying 
to sneak away. 

‘‘ No, you don’t, my fair child of Italy ! ” cried 
Larry, as he dragged Cuore into the ring. You 
have got up a little entertainment here for some¬ 
body, and you must stay and face the music.” 

“ You will oblige me by detaining that man,” 
said Lieutenant Foucault. “ He has been hanging 
around our camp for several days. These gentle- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


243 


men are particular friends of our chef de brigade, 
and any favor accorded to them will be a service 
rendered to him.’’ 

Arrest the Italian ! ” said the president to the 
men who had guarded Larry and myself. 

In a moment Cuore had a soldier on each side 
of him. 

e/e demande 'pardonJ' continued the officer, ex¬ 
tending his hand to me. I have made a great 
mistake.” 

I think you are rather summary in your pro¬ 
ceedings ; for, if I understand the situation, you 
were about to sentence us to be shot.” 

“ But the proof was very strong,” pleaded he. 

There was no evidence that we were spies; 
and you refused to inform General Eberle of our 
situation. But you were only too zealous in the 
discharge of your duty,” I replied. 

The aid found the general of the brigade, and 
delivered his message. Several officers congrat¬ 
ulated us upon our fortunate escape, and we were 
permitted to depart. But we were not ready yet 
to go. Larry insisted that he had a bone to pick ” 
with Cuore. It was plainly the purpose of this 
man to sacrifice us. He wanted our lives, and had 


244 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


actually laid a snare, by which we were to be shot 
as spies. I coi\ld not fathom his purpose; and 
Larry was equally unable to do so. 

“ Will you go with me to headquarters? ’’ asked 
Foucault, when he had delivered his message. 

Not yet,’' replied Larry, unless you can take 
this Italian with you.” 

Very likely I can.” 

He arrived in the camp from Milan this morn¬ 
ing, and if there are any spies around here, in my 
opinion he is one of them. General Eberle would 
have ordered his arrest this morning if he had not 
considered him our friend.” 

“ I will speak with the cJfe/ de hataillony^ replied 
the aid, walking towards that officer. 

A short consultation resulted in an order for the 
soldiers to conduct Cuore to the headquarters of 
General Eberle. We followed him, and found our 
brigade quartered not far from the canal where we 
had been arrested. The general had just completed 
the disposition of his force when we arrived. He 
gazed at us with astonishment, and with no less 
surprise at Cuore under guard. As briefly as pos¬ 
sible we told him what had occurred. 

The man is a villain ! ” exclaimed the general. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


245 


Italy’s skies never glowed over a greater vil¬ 
lain ! ” added Larry. 

Why does he seek your lives ? ” 

“ No Italian sage is wise enough to know. Be¬ 
ing Yankees, we can guess ; being philosophers, — 
a least, Phil is philosophical, — we desire to in¬ 
vestigate.” 

I shall hold him as a spy, for he says he came 
from Milan, and is a native of that city,” replied 
General Eberle, readily comprehending our wishes. 

We will have him searched, and you shall ex¬ 
amine his papers, if you wish.” 

We do wish ; but first, we should like to ques¬ 
tion him,” replied Phil. 

We seated ourselves upon camp-stools, and the 
guards were ordered to bring up the culprit. 


246 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY SOLVE A PROBLEM, AND 
THE ITALIAN MAKES A BAD MOVE. 

(( DON’T understand it at all,” said I, while we 



were waiting for the guards to bring up the 
prisoner. “ I can’t fathom the motives of this mis¬ 
erable Italian ; and the more 1 think of it, the more 
confused I become.” 

My brains are all boggled up over the matter,” 
added Larry; “ but the only thing I can make of 
it is, that he is an agent of those Farringfords, of 
Chicago. You are a good-looking fellow^, Phil, but 
they evidently don’t mean to have you come into 
their family.” 

“ Possibly he is what you say,” I replied, musing 
again on the subject, though I thought the Far¬ 
ringfords were altogether too dignified to resort to 
such trickery. 

What can we do with this fellow, general?” 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


247 


asked Larry, appealing to our powerful military 
friend. 

“ Do anything what you please with ze man,’’ 
replied the general. ‘‘ He have said he has been 
in Milan. I take him for a spy from ze Austrians.” 

You have him on the hip, then,” laughed my 
friend. 

On ze hip ? ” 

“ Where the hair is short.” 

Ze hair? ” 

In a tight place, I mean.” 

“ What is that ? ” asked the bewildered French¬ 
man. 

No gentleman ought to be expected to under¬ 
stand such slang,” I interposed. 

“ I have thought I know ze English language,” 
added the general, shrugging his shoulders. 

But these are idioms,” laughed Larry. 

“ No, they are not; they are only slang expres¬ 
sions. My friend means that you have the advan¬ 
tage of this Italian,” I explained. 

“ I have ze advantage ? ” 

• “ Why don’t you speak English to him, Phil ? 

^ On the hip ’ is a clearer expression than having 
the advantage. At any rate, you have the advan- 


248 


BIVOUAC, AND BATTLE, OR 


tage of the general, for he don’t know what you 
me^n any better thanj he did what I meant.” 

He intended to say that you have Cuore where 
yjn can do as you /please with him,” I added to 
t|ie general. j 

** uui, oui, GUI — GUI — GUI I ” exclaimed the gen¬ 
eral, after the manner of his countrymen when an 
obscure idea becomes plain to them. “ I can put 
him on ze hip, with a handkerchief over his eyes, 
with a file of soldiers before him, who shall fire at 
him till he die.” 

Don’t do that just yet, general, if you please,” 
interposed Larry. ‘‘ That would be putting him on 
the hip rather too much.” 

I shall do what you wish. You are ze court- 
martial. You shall try ze prisoner. You shall say 
if he is guilty or not guilty; and you shall say if 
he shall be shot, if he shall be hanged, if he shall 
live. He have come,” said General Eberl^, as the 
soldiers appeared, conducting the prisoner into 
OUT presence. 

This wa}^, my brave son of United Italy,” 
shouted Larry; and the soldiers brought the 
Italian to the place where we were seated. 

“ You have sent for me, and I have come,” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


249 


said Cuore, trying to put a bold face upon the 
matter. 

“You stole that remark from a play; it is no 
more original than your rascality. Are you going 
to Milan to-night, as you promised, Signor Cuore ? ” 

“ I am not in condition to go now,’^ replied he, 
glancing at his guards. 

“ It seems you had no intention of going to 
Milan. When were you there last ? ” 

Cuore looked at the general, and then at Larry, 
and evidently did not deem it prudent to answer 
this question. 

“ You have said you were in Milan last night,” 
added the general, sternly. 

“ I was not there last night,” answered Cuore. 

“You have lied, then. These gentlemen have 
said what you told them. I shall take ze word of 
ze gentlemen. I shall treat you like a spy.” 

“ I am ndt a spy, general,” protested the Italian, 
startled by this declaration. 

“ You said you were in the secret service. Who 
employs you ? ” asked General Eberle, in French. 

“ I am in the service of the police department,” 
answered Cuore. 

“ Have you been in Milan ? ” 


250 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE; OR 


No, general.’’ 

“ What is your business with these gentlemen?” 

I only desire to assist them.” 

And for that reason you denounced us as 
spies,” I interposed. 

That was your own fault,” replied the villain, 
coolly. I only desired to serve you; and I 
expected, when I had taken you to your mother, 
that you would reward me handsomely for my 
trouble. That is the whole of it. I was only 
anxious to make some money.” 

Did you expect to make any money by de¬ 
nouncing us as spies ? ” 1 demanded in English, 
for the accommodation of Larry. 

You denounced yourselves. You were foolish 
enough to talk about going to Milan while you 
were in the boat, which was the same thing as 
telling the soldiers on picket that you intended to 
go there.” • 

“ Why didn’t you return to us, as you prom¬ 
ised ? ” asked Larry. 

“ I could not. The soldiers arrested me. I told 
them you were officers, fishing; and if you had not 
spoken of going to Milan, it would have been all 
right. After you were arrested, I was obliged 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 251 


to tell the whole truth, or I should have been shot 
at once.’’ 

Liar that thou art! ” cried Larry. When did 
you write that German pass?” 

The scoundrel had evidently forgotten about 
the pass, which fully proved that he had prepared 
his plan for sacrificing us long before we left 
the camp. 

We all questioned him for some time, and the 
more he said the deeper he involved himself in the 
tangle of falsehood and deceit. 

Cuore, this is all bosh,” said Larry, when our 
patience was exhausted. ^‘We are satisfied that 
you are here for a purpose, and that your purpose 
is to make an end of Phil and myself.” 

Nothing of the kind, gentlemen. You wrong 
me. I have been your friend. I have done all I 
could to serve you. I saved you from the police 
in Paris, I assisted you in the steamers, and have 
done everything to aid you. You could not have 
reached Italy without my help.” 

“ But you brought us here to have us shot 
by order of a court-martial. Do you know a 
family of the name of Farringford ? ” added Larry, 
sharply. 


252 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I know our friend here, but no other one of 
the name,’' replied Cuore, shaking his head. 

‘‘Who employed you to take charge.of us? In 
whose employ do you labor to have us shot, 
drowned, or otherwise disposed of? ” 

“ You wrong me, gentlemen.” 

General, will you do us the favor to have this 
man searched ? ” added Larry, turning to our mili¬ 
tary friend. 

‘‘ Certainly,” replied he, giving the order in 
French to the sergeant in charge of the prisoner. 

The conspirator evidently did not relish this 
measure, for he turned pale, and I saw that he 
was very much agitated. The sergeant obeyed 
the order, and searched the prisoner in th-e most 
thorough manner. A considerable sum of money 
in napoleons was found in his purse, and several 
letters and papers. The sergeant was directed to 
return the purse, but the papers were handed to 
me for examination. 

Those are my private papers,” said Cuore. 

“ Precisely so; and that is the particular reason 
why we -wisli to see them,” answered Larry. 

I took you to be gentlemen,” added the pi is- 
oner, faintly. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 253 

We are very much obliged to you for the com¬ 
pliment your good judgment paid to us, and we 
are very sorry to be obliged to consult your pri¬ 
vate papers before we venture an opinion upon 
you. Open the documents, Phil.’’ 

I protest! This is an outrage,” said Cuore, 
warming up. 

“ Right! Go on with the outrage, Phil.” 

I opened a letter, which was in Italian, and I 
could not read it. I handed it to General Eberle. 

I am in the employ of the police department 
of Paris, and you have no right to examine my 
papers,” continued the prisoner. It is an out¬ 
rage.” 

“ Proceed with the outrage, Phil,” added Larry, 
as I picked up a letter which bore the London 
postmark. 

It w'as directed to Cuore at Marseilles. I 
opened it, and found it was in English. I looked 
for the signature first, but there was none. This 
fact was an indication that the fellow was in the 
employ of some one who would not even trust liis 
name to paper. I did not recognize the-hand¬ 
writing, as I should have done if it had been that 
of either of the Farringfords of Chicago. The let- 


254 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


ter bad contained a circular note for one thousand 
francs, and promised further remittances as the 
business proceeded. The other letters and papers 
were of no consequence to us, and our search 
seemed to amount to nothing, notwithstanding the 
violent objections of Cuore. We concluded that 
we had not found his most important documents; 
but the most diligent search failed to reveal any¬ 
thing further upon his person. 

Who wrote this letter ? ” I asked, holding the 
one from London. 

I decline to answer,’’ replied Cuore, who 
seemed to be greatly reassured by the ill success 
of our inquiries. 

Never mind, my sunny son of Italy. We have . 
another string to our bow,” said Larry. 

What is that ? ” I asked. 

General, has the mail-bag gone ? ” inquired 
Larry. 

‘‘ No. We were ordered to march a few mo¬ 
ments after you left,” replied the general. 

“ Good ! Our friend here mailed some letters. 

I think we had better examine them.” 

The general summoned his orderly, and directed 
the mail-bag to be brought to him. I kept my 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


255 


eye on the prisoner, who became very much 
agitated again as soon as he understood our pur¬ 
pose. The small leather bag, in which the letters 
of the brigade were sent to the nearest post- 
office, was soon brought to the general, who 
opened it. 

“ Sir Philip Grimsby,” said he, reading the 
superscription of the first he took out. 

ThaPs mine,” added Larry. 

“ Miss Ella Gracewood.” 

That’s mine,” I replied. 

“ Miss Blanche Fennimore.” 

All right,” said Larry. 

Half a dozen more to people in Paris and other 
parts of France followed. 

‘‘ Here is another Grimsby,” added the general. 

Mr. Miles Grimsby.” 

“ That’s more to the point. Let us see it. He 
is a cousin of mine.” 

Larry took the letter, and the address suggested 
a now theory to me, as it must have done to my 
friend. 

“ That’s not my writing,” said Larry. 

Nor mine,” I added. ‘‘ No one here but our¬ 
selves can possibly know Miles Grimsby.” 


256 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


‘‘ Doubted ! ” exclaimed Larry. I begin to see 
through the hole in this millstone.” 

‘‘ So do 1.” 

‘‘What you have discovered?” asked the gen¬ 
eral, with interest. 

“We should like very much to know what is in 
this letter,” replied Larry. 

“ The letter is sealed,” said the general, doubt- 
fully. 

“ But it was written by Cuore to the man who 
employed him to see that we do not return to 
England.” 

“ It is not my letter; I know nothing about it,” 
interposed the prisoner, struggling to appear in¬ 
different, in which he signally failed. 

“ If it is not your letter, of course it does not 
concern you,” added Larry. 

“ No; but you have no right to open any per¬ 
son’s letter. As an agent of the police, I will in¬ 
form against you if you open a single envelope.” 

“ Martial law here,” said the general, taking the 
letter into his own hands. “ You do not open ze 
letter. Monsieur Greemsby; you do not open ze 
letter. Monsieur Farringfor’. Ze general open ze 
letter. I take ze responsibility. You have un¬ 
derstood me ? ” 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


257 


Perfectly/^ we both replied. 

“ And you, Signor Cuore ? ” 

I protest! No one but the members of the 
police have the right to open a letter,’^ replied 
the prisoner, much alarmed. 

‘‘You protest, and I open ze letter,” said the 
genera], suiting the action to the word. Voild!'' 
exclaimed the general, pointing to the signature 
of the letter, as he handed it to Larry. You 
have wrote ze letter, signore. It have your 
name with ze pen at ze end of it.” 

This is entirely to the point, Phil,” said Larry, 
as he glanced at the sheet. “ The next time you 
see a Farringford, apologize to the whole race of 
them for the injury I have done them. This fellow 
is not working up your case, but mine.” 

“ This is an outrage,” said Cuore, angrily. ■ 

“ So it is, my precious scoundrel; but by just 
such outrages as this is innocence like mine pro¬ 
tected from villany like yours.” 

At this moment, Cuore, hopeless now that any 
cunning or any accident could conceal his rascal¬ 
ity, sprang away from the guards who were stand¬ 
ing on each side of him, and leaped upon Larry, 
who held the important letter in his hand. But 
17 


258 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE; OB 


the sergeant was hardly less active, and threw 
himself upon his prisoner, followed by three 
soldiers. The Italian struggled to shake off his 
persecutors. The peril of his situation has ren¬ 
dered him desperate, and before the sergeant and 
his companions could obtain a firm hold of him, he 
darted out from under them. In another instant 
he was running with all his might towards the 
pickets on the bank of the river. The soldiers 
grasped their muskets and pursued him. Three 
shots followed each other in rapid succession, af¬ 
ter we lost sight of the party in the darkness. 

“ I don’t believe that fellow will trouble us any 
more,” said Larry, after we heard the report of 
the muskets. 

I have no wish to have him shot,” I replied. 

Nor I; but he has brought it upon himself. 
Here they come. They have finished him.” 

The soldiers returned, bringing with them the 
Italian. He was not. dead, and I raised the lan¬ 
tern from the camp-stool to ascertain his condi¬ 
tion. The surgeon was at hand, and soon ascer¬ 
tained that two bullets had passed through the 
body of Cuore. His case was doubtful, but not 
hopeless, and he was sent to the rear. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


259 


By the light of the lantern we read his letter to 
Miles Grimsby, in which he reported progress to 
his employer. He said that his “ friends ” in¬ 
tended to start for Milan, and he was afraid’’ 
some accident would happen to them. 


260 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER XIX. 

IN WHICH PHIL INVENTS AND LAUNCHES AN AQUATIC 
MACHINE, AND PREPARES TO CROSS THE TICINO. 

I T had never occurred either to Larry or my¬ 
self that Cuore had auy connection with the 
Grimsbys. It is true that Miles had solemnly 
warned my friend of the peril he incurred by 
allowing events to take their natural course — by 
permitting Sir Philip to have his own way. Nei¬ 
ther of us gave the baronePs grandson the credit 
of being a person of any particular force of char¬ 
acter, either for good or evil. We regarded his 
warning as an idle threat, intended to intimidate 
a weak mind, but to have no effect whatever upon 
such minds as we flattered ourselves that we pos¬ 
sessed. 

“Miles has some grit in his constitution,” said 
Larry, after the soldiers had borne the wounded 
Italian to the rear. “ I would not have believed 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


261 


that he had the spunk to kill a flea, or raise his 
hand against a good-sized bull-frog.” 

“ It does not require much courage to employ 
an Italian bravo to do your dirty work for you,” I 
replied. 

It was very well managed, whoever did it; 
and, so far as I can see, the plot would have been 
successful if General Eberle’s brigade had not 
moved over here at just this time.” 

“Probably it would have been successful. I 
can’t say I like the way these Frenchmen do these 
things. Sometimes they shoot a man, and hear the 
evidence for or against him afterwards. We came 
within one of being shot on the testimony of this 
miserable Cuore.” 

“ Precisely so ; and I judge, from the stories of 
those who speak English, that many a fellow as 
good-looking as you or I has been shot on no bet¬ 
ter evidence. There’s a great deal of uncertainty 
in this world, Phil,” added my companion, sagely. 

“ In this particular part of it, and at this particu¬ 
lar time, there is; and this fact convinces me that 
we are out of our element. If I had known no 
more French than you do, Larry, we should have 
been sacrificed before our brigade arrived.” 


262 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Correct; and, Phil, we will get out of this 
scrape as soon as convenient; for, however I may 
feel in regard to myself, I will not risk your neck 
among the Philistines any longer than is absolutely 
necessary.’’ 

‘‘ I am afraid that you are in greater danger 
than I am, Larry,” I answered. 

Why so ! ” 

Because Miles Grimsby will never be satisfied 
till he has removed you from between himself and 
his expectations.” 

Now that 1 understand the matter, I don’t care 
a fig for him. Miles will find it a very difficult 
thing to wipe me out.” 

He has exhibited no little tact in managing his 
case so far. He went down to London with us, 
and there employed this reckless Italian to fol¬ 
low us.” 

Of course that little farce in the gardens of 
the Tuileries was only a trick of Cuore to intro¬ 
duce himself,” added Larry. 

“ That’s all; but I have no doubt that he is, or 
has been, in the employ of the police department, 
as a spy, a shadow, a stool-pigeon.” 

“ But I wonder where Miles found him.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


263 


Miles has travelled on the continent, and very 
likely Cuore has been a courrier or valet de places 
employed by him.” 

If he gets well, very likely we shall have to 
fight this battle over again in some other form. 
No matter; it will make it lively for me.” 

By this time the troops of the brigade were 
asleep on the ground, where they had bivouacked 
for the night. It was said in the camp that 
McMahon, with the Imperial Guard, had been mov¬ 
ing towards the north, and it was believed that the 
great battle was close at hand. It seemed to me 
then that I was quite willing to avoid the savage 
contest, in which I had no particular interest; but 
I saw no way to do so. We had been praised and 
flattered by the oflBcers, called the brave Ameri¬ 
cans,” and we felt that much was expected of us. 
At any rate, we were too deeply committed by our 
pride and self-respect to run away. We drew our 
blankets over us, and went to sleep together on 
the right bank of the Ticino, near what is now his¬ 
toric ground. 

Early the next morning, though the sound of 
booming guns came not to our waiting ears, and 
all was as still as if earth knew no discordant 


264 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


notes, our brigade was in marching order. Haver¬ 
sacks were filled with rations, ammunition was 
served out, and every preparation was made for 
active operations. 

On that day was fought the great and decisive 
battle of Magenta. 

Its story is briefly told. On the left of the allied 
army, McMahon had marched, two days before, to 
the north. On the preceding day this force had 
crossed the Ticino at Turbigo, a considerable dis¬ 
tance above the spot where the Austrians had 
evidently expected the attack. But the enemy 
hurried forward his troops in that direction, and 
soon had a superior force between McMahon and 
t he main body of the allies. On the day of the bat¬ 
tle, the emperor crossed the bridge at Buffalora, 
and took position in front of one hundred and 
twenty-five thousand Austrians, who, apparently 
unable to determine the plan of the allies, made no 
attack until about noon. Guyulai, the Austrian 
commander-in-chief, learning that the bridge of Buf¬ 
falora had been captured, and that the invaders 
had crossed the river, despatched a force to drive 
back the allies, and retake the bridge. Canrobert 
was to have followed the emperor, who had ad- 


•THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


265 


vanced with the grenadiers of the Imperial 
Guard, but was delayed, and for a time the situa¬ 
tion of the emperor was critical. The Guard stood 
their ground with a steadiness which has hardly a 
■ parallel in history. Seven times in the course of 
two hours did the enemy charge upon the little 
force which surrounded his majesty, but were as 
often repulsed. Then the Guard, weary and im¬ 
patient under this passive fighting, attacked the 
Austrians. Canrobert then appeared, alid the po¬ 
sition was won. 

During these critical moments, when the Impe¬ 
rial Guard were almost borne under by the force 
of opposing numbers, the emperor was frequently 
observed to cast his eyes anxiously in the direction 
of Turbigo, from which he expected the force of 
McMahon to come. It came at last, having fought 
its way through a superior force, and the junction 
was effected in accordance with the plan of the 
emperor. But the Austrians fought bravely to 
the last, and were slowly driven back upon Ma¬ 
genta, which was taken, house by house, by the 
French, and the great victory was complete and 
final. 

Until late in the afternoon, our brigade had 


266 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

been wholly unoccupied, except in watching the 
movements of the enemy on the other side of the 
river. We were part of the force on the right of 
the emperor, whose duty it was to prevent the 
enemy from crossing the river, and taking the 
allies on the flank. An Austrian corps d’armee was 
stationed at Abbiate Grasso, directly in front of 
our position, which we were either to neutralize or 
follow, as the case might require. 

At noon we heard the roar of the guns, and the 
sharp rattle of the musketry at Bufialora. The 
combat deepened as the day advanced. From the 
highest points of observation, even from the tops 
of the trees and the roofs of the houses, the 
glasses of the fleld oflScers were directed towards 
the country between Abbiate Grasso and Magenta, 
to obtain the earliest intelligence of the move¬ 
ments of the enemy in front of our division. A 
pontoon train was in readiness to throw a bridge 
over the river, whenever the situation required an 
advance. But the other side of the river was still 
picketed by the Austrians. General Eberld was 
constantly in consultation with the general of divis¬ 
ion, and they were evidently much perplexed to 
ascertain the operations of the Austrian corps in 
front of them. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


267 


To my surprise, I found myself quite as much 
excited as the Frenchmen around me, while Larry 
was almost wild with the desire to take a more 
active part in the great events of the day. We 
were both mounted, and had done our full share of 
duty. The troops were kept in line, in readiness 
to move ; but we all agreed that we had a very 
stupid part to perform. 

Dull music, Phil,’’ said my friend. 

•^Rather; but I suppose we shall soon have 
something to do,” I answered. 

I am afraid not.” 

“ Of course, if the French carry the day above, 
the Austrians will not long remain in front of us. 
As soon as they move, we shall cross over and 
take the Austrians on the left.” 

Do you know, Phil, I believe those Dutchmen 
over there are fooling our generals ? ” 

What makes you think so ? ” 

We can’t see through all those trees. A hun¬ 
dred thousand men could move beyond the slope 
without being seen. If I were the general of 
division here, I would cross the river this instant,” 
replied Larry, highly excited. 

Don’t you see that battery over there ? ” 


268 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Hang the battery ! It has only a dozen guns 
or’^so. That must be carried as soon as we cross.’’ 

“ But it makes a difference whether or not it is 
supported by a corps d’armee. Our generals ought 
to have some one on the other side of the river, 
to let them know how the thing is going there,” I 
suggested. 

“ Suppose you go over, Phil ? ” laughed Larry. 

“ I am entirely willing,” I replied, hardly think¬ 
ing what I was saying. 

“ I should like to go with you, if the thing were 
possible,” added my friend. 

It is possible, of course.” 

What, with pickets on the other side of the 
stream ? I think not.” 

But it is possible, and I will agree to do it.” 

“ I will go with you, Phil; but it can’t be done. 
You would be shot twenty times before you could 
get over. Here is the general,” added Larry, as a 
party of field officers passed near us. 

Larry told our general what I had said. 

Not possible ! ” exclaimed he. 

I think it is; and I will undertake the job, if 
you will support me,” I answered, with a reckless¬ 
ness which has ever since amazed me. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


2G9 


‘‘ I will give you ze support of ze whole brigage, 
with grand pleasure/^ said the general. We 
want ze information. Suppose ze enemy move ; 
we don’t see him; we don’t know when he go; 
we don’t know where he go ; no \ ” 

“ I will be over there in half an hour, or an hour, 
at most, if you will do what I ask.” 

Certainly, I do all you ask,” added the general, 
with enthusiasm. 

You have a battery of artillery. Drive the 
pickets back from the river with it.” 

Yes.” 

“ And give me one of the large copper soup- 
boilers from the cuisine,” I added. 

“ A soup-kettle ! ” exclaimed the military gen¬ 
tleman. Will you cross in a soup-kettle ? Ze 
Austrians will make a riddle of you with bullets.” 

‘‘ I do not purpose to cross in the soup-boiler. 
But if you will leave that part to me, I will 
manage it.” 

As you please.” 

“ Do you see that tall tree on the top of the 
little hill ? ” I asked, pointing to a very tall poplar, 
whose branches had been trimmed’ off for seventy 
or eighty feet from the ground, as they are often 
seen in France and Italy. 


270 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ I see him,’’ replied General Eberle, nervously, 
the Austrians have marched towards Ma¬ 
genta, I will wave my handkerchief from the top 
of that tree, or some other one near it.” 

Bravo ! ” shouted the general, hugging me in 
his enthusiasm, as though I had already done all I 
promised to do. 

Now send the soup-boiler down to the canal,” 
I replied, pointing to the willows where we had 
embarked the evening before. 

Can’t I go with you, Phil ? ” asked Larry, as 
we walked to our baggage-wagon. 

Only one can go.” 

“ But you will be shot, Phil.” 

“ I think not. I’m going in for a safe job. You 
shall help me off.” 

I threw off my uniform, and put on a pair of 
plain pants, which, with a shirt and a pair of shoes, 
was my entire suit. Taking a saw, a hatchet, 
some rope, and nails, I hastened to the canal, 
attended by Larry. I found a joist which had 
belonged to a bridge that had been destroyed, 
from which I cut off two pieces three feet in 
length. Placing them two feet apart, I nailed two 
sticks securely across them, so as to keep them in 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


271 


position, forming a frame three feet by two. By 
this time the soup-kettle had arrived. Putting the 
frame in the water, I placed the boiler upon 
it, upside down, to ascertain if the joists would 
float it. 

The experiment was not satisfactory, and I was 
obliged to add two more sticks, in order to in¬ 
crease the floatage power of the raft. It was a 
success this time ; and turning over the boiler, I 
lashed it firmly to the sticks. 

What under the light of the blue canopy are 
you doing, Phil ? demanded Larry, who had 
watched me with interest, and assisted me as 
I required. What sort of a machine do you 
call that?’^ 

I donT call it. Now lend me your revolver.^’ 

I took the pistol, and fired six shots at the 
copper, which only dented it, and none of the balls 
went through. 

All right, Larry. You see it is bullet-proof.’^ 

I see it is; the metal gives so that the shots 
bound off.” 

Now help me put it into the water.” 

We launched the novel machine, and I found 
that the floatage of the wood was none too great. 


272 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


for the raft was very nearly submerged by the 
weight upon it. We towed the thing down to the 
mouth of the canal. 

Now, Larry, go and tell the general to clean 
out the pickets,’’ I continued. 

All right; but what are you going to do ? ” 

I’m going to swim across the river, with my 
head raised up in the boiler.” 

“ You will smother.” 

“ No; the top is just above the surface of the 
water. But I can tip it a little when I need ven¬ 
tilation.” 

But at that moment a bullet whistled unpleas¬ 
antly near my head, and I “ ducked ” under the 
bank of the canal. It was fired by the pickets on 
the other side. Phil left me, and in a few moments 
I saw the French battery dashing towards the 


river. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


273 


CHAPTER XX. 


IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY TAKE PART IN THE BAT¬ 
TLE OF MAGENTA, AND VISIT MILAN. 

S soon as Larry had started the battery to- 



i \ wards the river, he returned to the canal to 
assist me in moving off my aquatic machine. Be¬ 
fore he joined me, the French cannon were waking 
up the Austrians on the other side. From the 
earth-works opposite a sharp fire was opened. A 
company of French riflemen swept the bank of the 
river at the same time, and the place was alto¬ 
gether too hot for the pickets. I saw them re¬ 
treating from the shelter of the willows near the 
river, and the way was thus prepared for my atj 


tempt. 


I am all ready, Larry,’’ said I. The coast is 
as clear as it will be.” 

I’m afraid those Dutchmen will gobble you up 
as soon as you land,” he replied, anxiously. 


18 


274 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ No, I think not. At any rate, I shall do the 
best I can to keep out of their way.” 

But I must go over and take care of you.” 

Don’t you think I rjan take care of myself? ” 

“ I doubt it.” 

“ I have seen more of this sort of thing than 
you have, Larry, and, now I am in it, I feel quite 
at home.” 

That Indian skirmishing again ! ” laughed he. 

“ It was hotter than anything we have seen here 
yet.” 

. Perhaps it was. But I must go with you, 
Phil.” 

“ No, you stay here. I should have to take care 
of you besides myself, if you went.” 

Good, Phil! The lamb is becoming a lion; 
but I am a first-class tiger, and I feel moved to go 
with you. I should never forgive myself if you 
should be killed instead of me. You have a 
pother — ” 

And you have a grandfather,” I interposed, as 
I prepared to put my head inside of the soup- 
boiler. 

“ Never mind him. One good turn deserves 
another, and I shall leave him to take care of him¬ 
self, as he did me.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


275 


“ I dare say your • taking off ’ would oblige your 
cousin Miles very much.” 

I’m not going to be taken off to oblige him. 
There is room for two heads in that big kettle.” 

Room for the heads, but not for the shoulders 
under them. I have to swim, Larry, and two of 
us could do nothing in such close quarters. Be¬ 
sides, my dear fellow, I want you to stay on the 
shore here, and see that nothing goes wrong with 
me. Keep out of sight, and make no sign, or you 
will betray me. If you see any chance to lielp me, 
do so; but remember that discretion is the better 
part of valor in a situation like this.” 

“ Good by, Phil, if we never meet again, for you 
are going into the lion’s den, and he will bite your 
head off, all because I am not with you to take care 
of you. I didn’t think you could be so obstinate.” 

Adieu for the present, Larry. Keep your eye 
on me as long as you can, but don’t show yourself” 
I lay down in the water, and raised my head 
under the soup-kettle. The water was about up 
to my middle, and I was obliged to stoop under my 
armor. The rim of the boiler was not an inch 
above the surface of the water, but this space was 
enough to afford me a supply of air, and to enable 


276 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


me to see my course over the stream. Grasping 
the frame on which my head-armor rested, T pushed 
off. The depth of the river gradually increased as 
1 advanced, and I was soon obliged to swim. As 
there was little or no current, I had no diflSculty in 
propelling the machine ; but I was careful to make 
no swash in the water that would attract the at¬ 
tention of the enemy. My hands were placed on 
one of the boards I had nailed across the joists; 
and I found that my weight quite submerged the 
boiler in front of me, so that I could not see 
ahead; but the part behind me was above the 
water, so that I did not want for air. 

Starboard! said Larry, in a voice loud 
enough for me to hear. 

Shifting my weight to the after part of the ma¬ 
chine, so as to permit the kettle to rise in front of 
me, I saAV that I was headed directly down the 
stream, towards the batteiy, which was belching 
forth fire, smoke, and grape-shot. Changing my 
course, I propelled the machine with my feet. 
The river was not wide, and in a few moments I 
found I could touch bottom with my feet. Thus 
far not a shot from the shore had struck the kettle, 
and I concluded that the enemy had been so much 




THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


277 


occupied with the battery as not to notice me. 
Wading slowly in towards the Lombardian shore, 
I crowded my machine in among the willows 
which covered the bank. Resting from my vio¬ 
lent exertions, — for I had worked hard in propel¬ 
ling the huge boiler over the river, — I listened 
attentively for any sounds that denoted the near 
presence of the Austrians. I could hear nothing 
but the roar of the artillery, still engaged in the 
duel across the stream, and I ventured to crawl 
out from beneath my armor. 

Keeping my head behind the kettle, I attempted 
to peer through the willows. I could see nothing 
of the enemy in this direction, though an occa¬ 
sional shell exploded just below me, and I could 
hear the rattle of grape-shot among the trees, be¬ 
tween me and the earth-works. While I was thus 
examining the ground over which I wished to ad¬ 
vance, I heard a noise in the water, which caused 
me to turn around. There in the river, and half 
way across, was Larry, swimming lustily towards 
me, without the shelter of a soup-boiler, or any 
other protective apparatus. For an instant I 
trembled for him; but when I considered that not 
a shot had been fired at the moving boiler, and 


278 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

tliat the pickets had been driven back by the fire 
of the artillery, I could hardly keep from laughing 
at the pains I had taken to secure a safe passage. 
With strong and lusty strokes Larry rapidly ap¬ 
proached me, and was soon within easy speaking 
distance of me. 

What are you about, Larry ? ” I asked, when 
he ceased to swim, and began to wade towards me. 

About my own business and that of the French 
army,’^ replied he, puffing with his exertions. 

Are you mad ? ’’ 

Never was in better humor in my life.” 

Duck under, Larry, or some of the Austrians 
will see you,” I called, earnestly. 

Don’t be alarmed, Phil. I helped to put a 
head on you, and I have no notion of losing my 
own. There isn’t an Austrian within a quarter of 
a mile of you,” he answered, walking erect in the 
water towards me. But why stand ye here all 
the day idle ? ” 

I was just feeling my way up to the shore. 1 
am provoked, with you, Larry. Why did you 
come over ? ” 

“ My conscience reproached me for permitting a 
youth like you to come over here without any one 
to protect you.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


279 


I am sorry you have come.'’ 

“ That’s complimentary, and I suppose my com¬ 
pany is not agreeable.” 

“ On the present occasion it is not.” 

You are selfish, Phil. You wish to do a big 
thing all alone by yourself, and are afraid you will 
be robbed of a share of the glory.” 

You know better, Larry.” 

Then don’t quarrel with me. You made such 
a row about coming over here under that old soup- 
pot, that I thought it was really a dangerous enter¬ 
prise ; but it is only child’s play. Come, Phil, are 
you going to march on the Austrians? ” he rattled 
on, so lightly that I was quite ashamed of my 
prudent measures. “ Lead on ; you shall boss the 
job, and I will follow you.” 

“ All right; but you must do as I do, or you will 
not only imperil your own head, but mine.” 

“ Right! You shall keep your head, and I will 
keep mine.” 

I crept out of the bushes, and throwing myself 
upon the ground, crawled to a ditch, used to irri¬ 
gate the country. On one side of it was the usual 
row of mulberries, behind which we walked a 
short distance; but, as the water would not run 


280 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


up hill, we were forced to leav-e it in order to 
ascend the slope on which stood the tall tree. 
Several rows of mulberries extended up the de¬ 
clivity, and between the trees were lines of grape 
vines, whose luxuriant foliage afforded us a par¬ 
tial protection. Creeping on the ground, we soon 
reached the summit of the slope. Around us the 
ground was ploughed with shot and shell, and 
many of the trees were splintered; but the fire in 
this direction had been suspended, for the general 
knew where we were expected to be. The firing 
had driven back the pickets, and we could not yet 
even see them. 

“ Your plan has worked first rate, Phil,’’ said my 
friend, as we paused on the rising ground to take 
an observation. 

'^All but the soup-kettle, which was superflu¬ 
ous,” I replied, vexed at tbe coolness and indiffer¬ 
ence my companion had displayed. 

“ Not at all, my good fellow. If a single shot 
had hit your ark, of course I should not have dared 
to cross the river. The soup-kettle was a tip-top 
idea to feel your way with ; but of course, after you 
had proved that there was not a picket within half 
a mile, it was not needed. It is scarcely necessary 


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THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


281 


for me to insinuate that I do not -undervalue your 
ark of safety. No pickets in sight yet.’^ 

“ No ; but I must climb that tree. From the top 
of it I can see over the mulberries, and cover the 
country for miles.’’ 

On the summit of the slope the ground was 
planted with Indian corn, which was high enough 
to afford us all the shelter we needed. We crawled 
in the rows across several of the spaces t)etween 
the lines of mulberries, till we reached the tree. 
There was not a branch on its trunk within seven¬ 
ty-five feet of the ground, and it was no easy job 
to climb it. 

There you are ! Crawl up, my mud-turtle,” 
said Larry, glancing at me. 

Of course I could not swim the river without 
wetting my clothes, and as I crawled through the 
cornfield the soil had clung to my dripping gar¬ 
ments till I well deserved the appellation which 
my companion had applied to me. But Larry was 
in no better condition. 

I am all ready, fellow-worm of the earth; but 
you must crawl over to the edge of the cornfield, 
so as to give me timely notice of the approach of 
the enemy, while I crawl up the tree.” 


282 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Right! we are a wormy couple. Crawl away.’’ 

My friend made his way to the point indicated, 
and I commenced my difficult undertaking. For¬ 
tunately, the tree was of the spindling kind, and 
its diameter did not at all correspond to its 
height. Even when my arms and legs were far 
shorter than now, I had cHmbed tall cotton-woods, 
and the experience I had acquired enabled me to 
accompfish my purpose. I was obliged frequently 
to pause and rest; but in less than half an hour I 
had ascended as far as it was safe to go. 1 had a 
full view of the country in every direction. The 
battle was still raging above us at Buffalora and 
other points. Vast volumes of smoke were rising 
from the battle-field, and the roar of artillery seemed 
to shake the earth beneath me. I turned to the 
country behind the slope. I distinctly saw several 
columns of infantry and artillery moving hurriedly 
towards,Magenta. A large portion of them had 
been posted behind the earth-works, to repel an 
advance in this direction. I had ascertained what 
General Eberle desired to know — that the troops 
behind the battery had been withdrawn. The 
Austrians were hard pressed -by the Imperial 
Guard, and were obliged to reenforce their columns 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


283 


by bringing up the troops which had protected 
their left. I made the signal with my handker¬ 
chief, repeating it till I saw the pontoon train dash 
down to the river^s side. The French artillery 
poured shot and shell into the earth-works with 
tremendous rapidity, in order to cover the opera¬ 
tions of the pontoon engineers. In a very short 
time the bridge was completed. A regiment of 
Zouaves went over on the run, and, without stopping 
to fire a volley, or even a single shot, rushed upon 
the earth-works, carrying them in the twinkling of 
an eye. As the artillery-men retreated, their own 
guns were turned upon them. I saw the picket 
line which had been driven back from the river re¬ 
tire upon the main body. The field was clear, and 
our brigade released from its late inactivity. I 
descended from my high position, and found Larry 
at the foot of the tree. 

How’s that for high ? ” said he. 

“ First rate. The Austrians have all left this 
vicinity, and our work is done. I want my coat 
and cap.” 

As we walked towards the pontoon bridge, we 
met the general. 

“You have done ze business very nice. You 


284 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


have help us very much. You have done one 
grand thing ! exclaimed he, grasping my hand. 

It was very easily done,” I replied. “ My 
friend swam over without any soup-kettle.” 

Only after Phil had proved that there was no 
danger.” 

Our servant had brought over our clothes and 
baggage, and our horses were waiting near the 
bridge. We washed ourselves in the river, and 
put on clean shirts. Mounting our steeds, we 
overtook the brigade, and took our places near the 
general. The column was marching towards Ma¬ 
genta, where the heaviest of the fighting was now 
going on. Near a farm-house on the way we were 
confronted by a force of Austrians, and a sharp 
skirmish took place. I found myself in the midst 
of it, with bullets whistling about my head. The 
general gave me an order to deliver to a colonel, 
and I hastened to obey. I soon became interested 
in the business, and as zealous as any one on the 
field. In delivering another order, I found myself, 
by a sudden movement of the Austrians, directly 
in front of them ; my horse dropped under me, and 
one of my struggles as a soldier was to get my leg 
out from beneath him. 

All the rest of that day was a hot struggle. We 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


285 


drove the Austrians before us at last, and entered 
the village of Magenta. We took the place house 
by house, and street by street. All was fury and 
excitement; but it was victory — hard-won victory. 
Larry was as wild as any Frenchman on the field, 
and, when sent to execute an order, finding the 
officer in command of the battalion killed, he*led 
the column himself, and made a fierce charge with 
it. Both of us were repeatedly commended by our 
friend the general. 

The day at Magenta was won, and that night I 
saw the emperor and the king of Italy. I was 
utterly exhausted when the work was done, and 
while the entire plain was ringing with cheers, I 
went to sleep. 

The next day, and the next, we marched. The 
allied army entered Milan. The two sovereigns 
were received with acclamations. Our brigade 
was encamped on the outskirts of the city. As 
soon as we could obtain leave, we hastened to the 
Corso di Bosinare. I found the office of Signor 
Bertani, and ascertained where his residence was. 
Taking a carriage, we hastened thither. It was 
quite near our camp. 

I was admitted, and in a few minutes I stood in 
the presence of my mother. 


286 


BIVOUAC .AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER XXL 


IN WHICH PHIL Is IDENTIFIED BY HIS MOTHER, AND 
LARRY GOES TO ENGLAND. 

STOOD before my mother. I trembled with 



jL emotion. For years I had been looking for¬ 
ward to this moment with bounding anticipations. 
It had seemed to me that all the joys of earthly 
life were concentrated in this instant. Like a 
little child, I had longed and sighed for my mother. 
I could not speak ; I could only look at her. I could 
see in her face, which was more beautiful to me 
than that of the fairest maiden I had ever beheld, 
the expression and every feature of the picture in 
my possession. 

But I could not forget that my identity had not 
yet been acknowledged. In the room were Mr. 
Joseph Collingsby and his invalid wife. Perhaps 
I should be spurned here, as I had been in Chicago, 
when I attempted to claim my birthright. The 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


287 


events of the past rushed through my mind with 
electric rapidity, and I tried to connect the past 
with the present. I gazed at the lady before me 
with tremulous anxiety. I saw that she was 
regarding me with equal earnestness. I tried to 
speak, but I could not, and we stood gazing at 
each other in silence. 

At the door I had simply inquired for Mr. Col- 
lingsby; but as the Italian servant did not speak 
French, I could do nothing more than mention the 
name. It appeared that the party were expecting 
the arrival of two English gentlemen, with w'hom 
tliey desired to make the journey into Switzer¬ 
land ; and we were taken to be those persons, and 
admitted without ceremony. 

You wish to see me ? ’’ said Mr. Collingsby to 
Larry Grimsby. 

‘‘No, sir; my friend desires to see Mrs. Far- 
ringford.” 

“ What is your friend’s name ? ” 

“ Philip Farringford.” 

I heard this, and my mother heard it, while we 
were still regarding each other. Suddenly the 
lady threw herself upon my neek, and kissed me 
on the cheek. I felt her hot tears upon my face. 


288 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

and I felt that I was recognized without any ex¬ 
hibition of the evidence. I kissed her in return. 

Louise ! ” said Mr. Collingsby, sternly. 

She gently disengaged herself from me, and 
taking one of my hands in hers, she looked at her 
brother.' 

Well, Joseph?” she replied, struggling with 
her emotions." 

I must beg you to be cautious.” 

This is my son ! ” exclaimed she, grasping my 
other hand also, and gazing at me again with the 
most intense earnestness. 

Father and Richard have both warned you 
against this person,” said Mr. Collingsby, coldly. 

I must explain* what afterwards came to my 
knowledge. My mother had been told that her 
husband had acknowledged a young man as his 
son; but her father’s family in Chicago believed 
that it was a trick to obtain a portion of the old 
man’s property. She had been informed that I 
was on the way to Europe, and cautioned to repel 
the imposition if I came into her presence. It was 
only by accident that I was admitted to her 
presence — an accident made possible only by the 
alarms of war. The party had been trying for 


Phil finds his Mother. Page 288. 



tisiiau 




































































































































































































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


289 


several weeks to get into Switzerland; but Mr. 
Collingsby was a timid man, and dared not under¬ 
take -the journey in the troubled state of the 
country. They were in daily expectation of the 
arrival of the two English gentlemen who were to 
accompany them, and doubtless Mr. Collingsby 
was very much disappointed when the visitors 
proved to be other persons. 

“ Joseph, I know him,” said my mother: and she 
smiled through her tears. 

This is absurd, Louise. Your child was lost 
when he was only two years old.” 

“ But I know his expression, and I know 
every lineament of his face. It is my boy—I 
know it! ” 

“ It is ridiculous; Louise.” 

“ I ask for no evidence whatever but his face. 
It is exactly the same as when he last looked 
upon me,” added my mother, still gazing earnest¬ 
ly at me. 

I will not permit this imposition,” protested 
Mr. Collingsby. 

I know my own child, and I shall cling to him 
while I have life.” 

“ Right! That’s the style,” whispered Larry. 

19 


290 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Mr. Collingsby, neither your father nor your 
brother would ever listen to what my father or I 
had to say on this subject. I offered to present 
the evidence to them, but they declined to hear 
me.’^ 

‘‘ It was too absurd to be listened to.’^ 

“ Reasonable people do not judge until after 
they have heard,’’ I replied. 

“ But the whole story is ridiculous on the face 
of it.” 

Sit down, Philip, and tell me all about it,” said 
my mother, leading me to a sofa. 

“ Not here,” interposed Mr. Collingsby. 

Then I will go with you, Philip, to your 
hotel.” 

Are you crazy, Louise ? ” demanded her 
brother. 

Will you hear what my son has to say?” 

No, I will not. It is all a trick of his drunken 
father,” said Mr. Collingsby, angrily. 

My father is a sober, industrious, Christian 
man. He does not ask a dollar or a penny of any 
Collingsby. He is able to support his family, and 
asks no favors of any one. I know that he has not 
drank a drop of intoxicating liquor for two years,” 
I replied, warmly. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


291 


“ Joseph, this is my son. If you repel him, you 
repel me. Where he goes I will go. I have 
nothing more to say,” added my mother, with 
quiet dignity, as she threw her arm around my 
neck. 

“ I am sorry that the warnings of father and 
Eichard have had no effect upon you,” said he, 
more calmly, when he saw that his violence was 
complicating the matter. 

•‘Until I saw Philip I believed that it was an 
imposition; now 1 know that it is not. This is my 
son. I cannot be mistaken,” replied my mother. 

“ I think, sir, that if you will hear me, I can 
convince you.” 

“ Not now ; another time,” he answered, testily. 

“ I am not quite prepared at the present time 
myself to exhibit all the evidence,” I added. “ If 
you will name a time, you will oblige me.” 

“ To morrow, at ten o’clock,” said Mr. Col- 
lingsby. 

“ I have sent to Genoa for my trunk, and expect 
it to-day. If it comes I shall be able to satisfy 
you, I think.” 

“But you must not leave me for a moment, 
Philip,” said my mother. 


292 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I am a volunteer aid in the French army, on 
the staff of General Eberle, mother.’^ 

You?’’ 

I was in the battle of Magenta.” 

0, Philip ! — how could you — ” 

But I will resign at once.” 

Then I must,” added Larry. But I will go 
over to the camp. If your trunk has come, shall I 
send it over here ? ” 

Certainly not,” I replied. 

“Yes, send it,” interposed my mother. “And 
your own also, if you are the friend of my son.” 

“ But, Louise,” interposed Mr. Collingsby. 

“ If my son is not welcome here, I cannot be. I 
will go to a hot^l with him then. He shall not 
leave me,” said my mother. 

“I cannot trespass upon the hospitality of stran¬ 
gers,” I interposed. “I must go to the camp,, 
mother, in order to resign my position.” 

“ If you leave me, I am afraid I shall never see 
you again. I will go with you to the camp,” 
added my mother. 

Mr. Collingsby protested. He was evidently 
disgusted, and only wished to get me out of the 
way. Signora Bertani appeared, and invited both 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


293 


Larry and me to make her house our home. We 
did not accept, though we staid there till after 
dinner. Then we went to the camp, resigned our 
positions on the staff, and bade farewell to our 
comrades in arms, who were very kind to us. 
The general expressed his regret at parting with 
us, and offered to serve us in any way he could. 
He gave each of us a testimonial, and obtained for 
us a safe-conduct at headquarters, which would 
enable us to pass any army lines, and which would 
procure any assistance that we might require. 
My trunk had arrived, and we went to the Hotel 
Marino. 

We returned to the residence of Signor Bertani. 
My mother embraced me as I entered, and said 
that the hour I had been absent was an age to her. 
I exhibited my testimonial and our safe-conduct, 
and translated them into English, for Mr. Col- 
lingsby knew hardly a word of French. The doc¬ 
ument attracted his attention, for we could pass 
his party through into Switzerland. He was more 
considerate towards me then, for he was very anx¬ 
ious to escape from Italy and the confusion of the 
war. I staid till a late hour, and then went to the 
hotel. 


294 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

The next morning, with the relics of my child- 
hoofl, I hastened to the Bertanis. Mr. Collingsby 
was not inclined to hear me, but he could not 
avoid it without driving my mother and me from 
the house. 

Now, Philip, I want you to tell the whole 
story,” said my mother, who was seated at my 
side, holding my hand. 

“ I am afraid it will take me two or three hours,” 
I replied. 

No matter if it takes all day.” 

I related my story from beginning to end, and 
it was lunch time when I finished. 

“ That is a very good story ; but there is noth¬ 
ing at all in it to convince anybody that you are 
my sister’s son,” said Mr. Collingsby, after we re¬ 
turned from the dining-room. 

“ I am aware of it — the evidence is yet to be 
presented. When I was discovered by Matt Rock- 
wood, certain articles were found upon me.” 

You were wrapped in a shawl. How well 1 
remember it! ” said my mother. 

“ Here is the shawl,” I added, taking it from the 
bundle at my side. 

It is the same one ! ” exclaimed my mother. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


295 


I produced the little dress, and the bracelets 
with which the sleeves had been looped up, which 
were promptly identified. 

“ This locket was hung upon my neck,’’ I con¬ 
tinued. 

You gave this locket to the child yourself, 
Joseph,” said my mother, opening it. Here is 
the picture painted by Schmidt.” 

Mr. Collingsby examined it, and admitted that 
the locket was the one he had given me. 

“ But where did you get these things, young 
man ? ” 

They were found upon me when I was picked 
up by Matt Eockwood.” 

He suggested the same objections that others 
had presented. The relics were good evidence as 
far as they went, but they did not identify me. 

But I identify him,” interposed my mother. 

Could I look into his little face every day, all 
day long, for two years, and not know him'again? 
After I lost him, I still saw him, and his image has 
never passed out of my heart. I can see him now 
as he was then.” 

Was there any mark upon him, Louise, such as 
is discovered upon the foundlings and the long-lost 
sons in the novels ? ” laughed Mr. Collingsby. 


296 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Not a mark,” I replied. 

“Yes, he had a mole on the back of his neck; 
hut that may be gone now,” added my mother, 
drawing down my head, and examining the part 
indicated. “ But I should not be any better satis¬ 
fied if I found a dozen marks which I had seen 
upon the child. There it is — larger than it was, 
but in the same place.” 

“ I give it up,” said Mr. Collingsby, when he had 
examined the mole. “ Give me your hand, Philip. 
You are my nephew, without doubt. But it is a 
strange story, and you must excuse my incre¬ 
dulity.” 

“I don’t blame you at all, uncle Joseph.” 

“ Now, can you get us out of Italy ? ” asked my 
uncle; and perhaps his desire to escape from 
war’s alarms' had no little influence in convincing 
him that I was his nephew. 

“ Certainly I can. You shall start to-day, if you 
please.” 

“ To-morrow will do.” 

We made the arrangements for the journey at 
once. 

“ Now tell me about your father,” said my 
mother. “ Is he entirely changed ? ” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


297 


“ Entirely, mother; and I am sure that he will 
never drink another drop as long as he lives.’’ 

“ Thank God ! ” 

I hope you will forgive him, mother.” 

With all my heart, if he is changed. We may 
be happy yet; but 0, what a waste of misery 
there is behind me ! ” 

Never mind the past, mother; let us think 
only of the future.” 

“ You are right, Philip. I can hardly believe 
that I am the mother of such a manly boy as you 
are — so brave and daring, too. But I do believe 
it, and this fact is happiness enough for the future. 
I should be content to live in a hovel now.” 

There will be no need of that, for father has a 
salary of three thousand dollars, and I am good for 
a thousand more,” I added. 

But I am afraid we cannot go home at present, 
for Joseph’s wife is very feeble, and I cannot leave 
her. I wish your father could come over and 
join us.” 

That is impossible, for he has the care of Mr. 
Kockwood’s property in St. Louis, and cannot 
leave. I shall write to him to-day, and send the 
good news.” 


298 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


At a late hour in the evening I went to the 
hotel, and wrote a long letter to my father. The 
next day we went by easy stages in a private car¬ 
riage to Sesto, at the foot of Lake Maggiore. Our 
safe-conduct enabled us to pass without difficulty, 
and procured for us the best accommodations on 
the road. The health of Mrs. Collingsby was so 
feeble that we used up a week in travelling to 
Lucerne. By this time I was on excellent terms 
with my uncle. I took charge of the details of the 
journey, which my knowledge of French enabled 
me to do better than he could. Larry and I had 
written to our banker in Paris to forward our let¬ 
ters to Lucerne. There was one for my friend, 
and several for me. 

I must go at once, Phil,” said Larry, after he 
had opened his letter. 

“ Why ? what^s the matter ? ” 

“ ‘ Come home at once, you dog, or you will 
never again see me alive,’ ” replied Larry, reading 
from his letter. ‘‘ And it was written a week ago. 
I must not lose a moment.” 

But I don’t see how I can go with you, 
Larry.” 

‘‘ I must go alone, then. My grandfather may 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


299 


be dead now. He is a jolly old fellow, and I hope 
he won’t slip off this time.” 

I hope not. You must look out for Miles 
Grimsby : he means harm to you.” 

“ Confound him! I don’t care what he means. 
There will be a coldness between us now, since I 
have discovered his game — that is all.” 

“ Cuore is still in the hospital, and the last I 
heard of him he was getting better; but be pru¬ 
dent, Larry, and don’t make any friends on the 
way. I wish I were going with you.” 

“ I wish you were, my boy; but you must write 
every day, and I will do the same, if it is only a 
single line.” 

“ I will, Larry; and I shall miss you very 
much.” 

But you have your mother now.” 

Thank God, I have.” 

He was off that night, after bidding us an affec¬ 
tionate adieu. We missed him very much, for he 
was always full of life and fun. 


300 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTEK XXII. 

IN WHICH PHIL REMONSTRATES WITH LARRY, WHO 
DECIDES TO GO UP IN A BALLOON. 



EMOYED from the din and excitement of 


war, Mrs. Collingsby's health improved. We 
went to Carlsbad, whose waters had a very salu¬ 
tary effect upon her ; and she was so much better 
that my mother and I made several journeys to 
places of interest in the interior of Europe, as 
Berlin, Dresden, Vienna, Frankfort, Cologne, Ham¬ 
burg, and Baden-Baden. The war ended with 
the battle of Solferino and the treaty of Yilla- 
Franca. 

I had frequent letters from Larry. Sir Philip 
Grimsby was not dead when his grandson arrived, 
though he was very feeble. Miles was utterly 
confounded at the return of my friend, who be¬ 
came a great favorite with the baronet. In Oc¬ 
tober, while we were still at Carlsbad, Larry 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 301 

wrote me that Sir Philip was nearly restored in 
health, and consented to his absence for a few 
weeks. I had scarcely received the letter before 
my friend arrived. We almost hugged each other 
in the mutual delight of meeting again. He was 
cordially welcomed by my mother and my uncle. 

Tell me about Grimsby Hall, Larry. How is 
your grandfather?’’ I said, when we were by 
ourselves. 

“ He is better; but I think he is failing, on 
the whole. His constitution seems to be bro¬ 
ken, and another stroke of apoplexy will finish 
him. But he is a jolly old fellow.” 

And how is Miles ? ” 

I didn’t see much of him. Miles has taken 
to yachting, and is spending piles of money on 
his boat.” 

I didn’t think he had wit enough to appre¬ 
ciate a yacht.” 

“ I don’t know about that; but he is com¬ 
pletely absorbed in his craft, and says he shall 
go to America in her next season.” 

“ How big is his yacht ? ” 

About a hundred tons, I saw by a report of 
a sailing match, in which she took the second 
prize.” 


302 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE^ OR 


I wouldn’t be Miles Grimsby for all the 
yachts that ever floated; but I envy him the 
pleasure of such an amusement. There is noth¬ 
ing like it, to my mind. I should like to make 
a trip around Europe, stopping a week or so in 
places of interest on the way. But I shall 
never have the means to do anything of that 
kind.” 

shall, Phil, for my grandfather allows me 
just the same as Miles has — ten thousand pounds 
a year; and when either of us wishes to buy a 
yacht, a pair of horses, or a house, he is willing 
to come down with an extra ten thousand or so. 
I rather like the idea of a voyage in a yacht, 
and we will talk it over.” 

Of course I don’t expect you to buy a yacht 
for my benefit.” 

I shall enjoy it as much as you, Phil.” 

“ You say that Blanche is well and happy.” 

I said she was well — not happy. I don’t 
think she is happy. I didn’t tell you that we 
are engaged, but it is so.” 

Indeed! ” 

Fact; and we were engaged before the 
baronet acknowledged me as his grandson.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


303 


^^Then you are publicly acknowledged.’^ 

“Not very publicly — only to a dozen or so; 
and it hadn’t got into the newspapers when I 
left England, so far as I know.” 

“ If you and Blanche are engaged, I should 
think she would be happy,” I suggested. 

“So far as our engagement is concerned, I 
think she is happy. But Grimsby Hall is not a 
pleasant place for her to live. Uncle Miles is 
only one step from lunacy, and he makes the 
house very uncomfortable. They say his brain 
is softening; but 1 don’t believe he ever had any 
brains to soften. Once in a while he has a tan¬ 
trum, and makes the house too hot for the family. 
I had to take him by the collar one night, when 
he insisted upon turning his wife out of doors. 
But he is simply stupid most of the time, and 
they think of sending him to an asylum. But 
what are you going to do, Phil ? ” 

“ I hardly know.” * 

“ Shall you go home this fall? ” 

“If Mrs. Collingsby’s health will permit, we 
shall.” 

“ By the way, I think I saw Cuore in London,” 
continued Larry. 


304 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


Impossible.’^ 

Not at all impossible. The last we heard of 
him in the hospital, he was better.” 

“Where did you see him?” 

“ In the railroad station, as I was leaving for 
Paris. He seemed to have an eye on me, but 
when I made for him, he disappeared. In Paris 
I kept both eyes open, for I fancied that the 
rascal was dogging my steps. Miles Avas up at 
the Hall the Sunday before I left, and knew 
where I Avas going. Several times, AA^hen the 
train stopped betAveen here and Paris, I looked 
into every compartment of the carriages, and 
examined the face of every passenger: but I did 
not see Cuore.” 

“ Did you say anything to Miles about him ? ” 
I asked. 

“ Not a word ; nor to Sir Philip. I don’t think 
the old man likes Miles, though he treats him Avith 
a shoAv of iiffection, and all that sort of thing.” 

“ But you don’t think Miles will attempt to 
repeat the experiment he tried before ? ” 

“ I don’t knoAv Avhy he should not, for I still 
stand betAveen him and his expectations. But he 
was very pleasant to me, and invited me to sail 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


305 


with him in his yacht. I was afraid I might fall 
overboard if I did ; so I declined/’ laughed Larry. 

I shall keep my eyes open. I hope you are not 
going to stay here long, Phil. It’s a stupid place.” 

I should have thought so myself if my mother 
had not been with me. We were never tired of be¬ 
ing together, and of talking of the past. Mrs. Col- 
lingsby was so much better that it was decided to 
return to America. We went to Leipsic, and 
found the city crowded with people, in attendance 
upon a great festival. With difficulty we obtained 
rooms at the Hotel de Pologne. In the evening 
Larry and I went to the great garden, which was 
crowded with visitors, drinking beer and listening 
to the music. We seated ourselves at a table, and 
drank coffee. 

There he is! ” exclaimed Larry, pointing to¬ 
wards the kiosk in which the musicians played. 

^^Who?” 

Cuore.” 

Larry leaped to his feet, and moved in the direc¬ 
tion he had pointed; but the surging crowd came 
between us and the man we were seeking. 

He is gone,” said Larry. “ He sat at this table. 
There is his beer, not finished.” 

20 


306 BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 

Are you sure it was he ? I did not see him.’^ 

I am pretty sure it was he, though he was not 
dressed as when we saw him before.'^ 

Perhaps you are mistaken.” 

“ I may be, but I don’t think I am. If it was not 
he, why should he dodge so suddenly when I 
moved this way ? ” 

Possibly you are right.” 

“ I know the rascal’s face too well to be mis¬ 
taken. The moment he caught my eye, he turned 
away.” 

We returned to our table and drank the coffee 
which was waiting for us. We walked all over 
the garden in search of Cuore, but were unable to 
find him. I came to the conclusion that my friend 
had been mistaken in the identity of the person he 
supposed to be his enemy. 

“ Can 3’ou read that, Phil ?. ” asked Lariy, as he 
paused before a handbill on which was the picture 
of a balloon. 

“ Not a word of it,” I replied. But evidently 
there is to be a balloon ascension here.” 

“ Did you ever go up in a balloon, Phil? ” 

Of course I never did.” 

“Of course you would like to do so.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 307 

No ; I don’t believe in exposing myself to dan¬ 
ger in that way.” 

’Pon my word, there is no danger in it,” 
langlied Larry. ^^Did you ever hear of a man 
being killed in a balloon?” 

I have heard of people being killed by falling 
out of them.” 

“ Did you ever hear of a person being killed by 
falling out of a carriage ? ” 

“ Certainly I have.” 

Then it is dangerous to ride in a carriage.” 

“ That is sophistry, not argument, Larry.” 

“ I am no philosopher, as you are, learned Phil. 
I don’t know that I ever heard of anybody being 
killed by an accident to a balloon, except a woman 
in France, when tlie thing was blown up by a sky¬ 
rocket, or something of that sort. If I could got a 
chance to go up, even by paying a hundred dollars 
or so, I should go up. It would be a new ,sensa- 
tion.” 

We went back to the hotel. In the office was 
the balloon handbill. Larry stojDped to look at it 
again. 

“Donnerstag. What’s that, Phil?” said he, 
spelling out a word on the bill. 


308 


BIYOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


‘‘I haven’t the least idea; but I judge from the 
date following it, that it is some day of the week.” 

“ Exactly so. Donnerstag. If I wasn’t a print¬ 
er, 1 couldn’t read even that.” 

“ It means Thursday,” said a dark-complexioned 
gentleman, who had apparently paused to read the 
bill. 

Thank you. That’s to-morrow.” 

‘‘ Yes. You do not read German.” 

Not a word of it.” 

The balloon ascension is to take place to-mor¬ 
row, at four o’clock in the afternoon,” continued 
the stranger. 

Fifty thalers ! ” exclaimed Larry, reading from 
the bill. “ That is a pretty steep price for seeing 
a balloon ascension.” 

Steep? ” queried the stranger. 

‘^Very dear,” explained Larry. 

^^Not for seeing it. Signor Bianchi, the aero¬ 
naut, will take two gentlemen with him, as passen¬ 
gers, for fifty thalers each.” 

‘‘Cheap enough. I should like to see Signor 
Bianchi.” 

“ Should you ? ” 

“ Are his passengers engaged yet ? ” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


309 


No.’' 

“ Then I should like to see him. Does he speak 
English ? ” 

Perfectly,” replied the stranger, smiling. As 
well as I do.” 

“ That’s well enough.” 

Will you see him?” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ You don’t really think of going up in a balloon, 
Larry,” I interposed. 

“ ’ Pon my word, I do, if I get the chance ; and 
I am willing to pay fifty thalers, cash down, for the 
opportunity.” 

Signor Bianchi is staying at this hotel,” said 
the stranger. 

I beg your pardon ; but are you an Italian ? ” 
asked Larry. 

“ I am.” 

“ Perhaps you are Signor Bianchi.” 

No; but I travel all over Europe with him, 
and sometimes make an ascension. If you desire 
to go up in the balloon to-morrow, you shall have 
a place.” 

I will give you a final answer in half an hour 
or so.” 


310 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


The gentleman bowed, and left us. 

“Don’t think of such a thing, Larry,’’ I en¬ 
treated, when we were alone. “ Don’t risk your 
neck for nothing.” 

“ Not for nothing. I am to pay fifty thalers for 
the privilege of risking it, and I think it is cheap 
at that.” 

“ But it is folly.” 

“ Certainly it is. But I am human. Phil, I 
must go up in that balloon ; I can’t help it. I al¬ 
ways had a desire to do the thing. You remem¬ 
ber there was one in Marseilles when we were 
there. I was telling Cuore then — who said he 
had been up five times — if I ever got a chance, I 
should certainly go up.” 

“ Don’t you do it, Larry. This man is an Ital¬ 
ian, too.” 

“ No matter if he is. He is one of those bal¬ 
loonists that travel over the country, and make 
ascensions at foirs and festivals, and for the benefit 
of beer gardens, and such places. I am afraid if I 
lose this opportunity I shall never get another.” 

In vain I begged and pleaded with him; he was 
as obstinate as a mule. Mr. Collingsby and my 
mother tried their eloquence upon him with no 
better result. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


311 


“ I have concluded to go/^ said Larry, walking 
up to the Italian, who was seated in the coffee- 
room. 

Very well, sir. I will give you a receipt for 
fifty thalers.” 

Are you the proprietor of the balloon ? ” 

I am ; but I am not the gentleman who. makes 
the ascension to-morrow.” 

You are not Signor Bianchi ? ” 

“ No. I am Signor Cuore, his partner.” 

“ Cuore ! ” exclaimed Larry. 

“ Cuore, sir.” 

He certainly was not the villain of that name 
whom we knew. 

Have you a brother ? ” 

One in New York; none here,” replied the 
balloonist. I have lived five years in New York 
myself.” 

Where is Signor Bianchi ? ” 

He has retired for the night.” 

I should rather like to see the man with whom 
I am to go up.” 

“ He has been quite sick for a week ; but he is 
better. He may not be able to make the ascen¬ 
sion to-morrow. If not, I shall go up in his place. 


312 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


If you wish to engage a seat in the car, I will give 
you a receipt now, for we have other applications/^ 

“ I engage it here and now; ’’ and Larry took 
the fifty thalers from his pocket-book. 

If you will give me your card, I will write the 
receipt,^’ added Cuore. 

Larry wrote his name on a card, and the bal¬ 
loonist made out the receipt, in good English. 

“Are there any other Italians in Leipsic ?I 
asked, when the business was finished. 

“ Plenty of them,’’ replied Cuore. 

“ Do you know another of your name ? ” 

“ Yes ; two of them. Cuore is a very common 
name in Italy. One of them is a wine merchant, 
and the other is a silk agent from Milan.” 

I described the Cuore in my own mind ; but the 
Italian did not know him, or professed not to know 
him. Larry was confident that he had seen our 
evil genius in the garden. There was nothing 
improbable in the supposition that the villain was 
in Leipsic, and that he was following us wherever 
we went. He was certainly in the employ of 
Miles Grimsby. He had failed in his wicked pur¬ 
pose once, but he might not a second or a third 
time. I could not connect him in any manner 
with the balloon ; but, then, his ways were dark. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 313 

“ Larry, I beg of you, as a favor, not to go up in 
the balloon to-morrow,’^ said I, as we went to our 
room. 

“ Nonsense, Phil! 

‘‘ Cuore is in town, according to your statement; 
and this balloon man is also a Cuore. There is 
something wrong somewhere.’^ 

Don’t be a baby, Phil.” 

I begin to see through the whole of it. Cuore 
has been dogging you since you left London. He 
knows —■ for you told him — that you intended to 
go up in a balloon when you got a chance ; so he 
has laid in with this man to take you up ; and he 
will take care that you do not come down alive.” 

If I don’t, he won’t,” laughed Larry. Don’t 
make bugbears, my dear Phil. Your brain is dis¬ 
ordered. Go to sleep, and you will wake up bet¬ 
ter in the morning. Adieu.” 

Larry was still obstinate, and I went to sleep. 


314 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


CHAPTER XXIIL 

IN WHICH PHIL IS VERY ANXIOUS ABOUT LARRY, WHO 
HAS A PERILOUS ADVENTURE IN THE BALLOON. 

N the morning letters for our party came, for- 



M warded by the banker. One had an ominous 
black seal, and was addressed to Larry. I handed 
it to him. - 

^'You will not go up in the balloon to-day,^’ I 
said; for I concluded that the letter announced the 
death of Sir Philip Grimsby. 

Perhaps not,” he replied ; and I saw that he 
was deeply moved. If my grandfather is dead, I 
shall never cease to blame myself for leaving him, 
even for a single day.” 

He opened the letter. The event of its coming 
seemed to be something like a providence inter¬ 
posing to prevent him from risking his life so fool¬ 
hardily in the balloon. 

Thank God it is not my grandfather! ” ex- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


315 


claimed Larry; and I could see the feeling of 
relief that found expression in his face. 

“ But who is it ? ” 

‘‘ My uncle Miles. I have rather expected it. 
Well, it is a mercy to him, and certainly to the 
other members of the family, for he was of no use 
or comfort to himself or anybody else. But this 
letter is a week old, and the day of the funeral has 
already gone by.” 

Yet you will not go up in a balloon after 
receiving such a» letter,” I suggested. 

Why not ? It is not a ball or a party.” 

But it is a frolic.” 

Not at all. I go up in the balloon for the 
same reason that 1 should visit a picture gallery 
or a library — to improve my mind, to obtain 
larger views of things in general.” 

My friend was determined to carry out his pur¬ 
pose, and it was useless for me to labor any further 
to dissuade him. At the appointed time we went 
to the garden, where the balloon was already 
inflated. There were thousands of spectators, 
most of whom had probably never seen an ascen¬ 
sion. The Cuore whom we had met at the hotel 
requested Larry to take his seat in the car. 


316 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ Good by, Larry,’’ said I, shaking his hand. 

“ Nonsense, Phil! I shall be with you this 
evening or to-morrow morning,” replied he, light¬ 
ly. ‘‘The only danger that I ever could see in 
going up in a balloon was being carried out to 
sea ; but that is impossible here, you know. I am 
perfectly safe, in my own opinion.” 

“ Of course I shall hope for the best. Have you 
seen the man who is going up with you'? ” 

Not yet.” 

“ I expect him in a moment,” interposed Cuore. 

As I told you, he is not very well, and I told 
him not to come till four o’clock.” 

The crowd cheered and applauded when Larry 
seated himself in the car. Twenty men held the 
balloon by the netting, and it was permitted slow¬ 
ly to rise till the car was lifted from the ground. 

“ Where is the other passenger ? ” asked Larry. 
You will be the only one,” replied Cuore. 

The gas is so poor, I find, that we cannot take 
the second gentleman.” 

All right. Then I shall have the fun all to 
myself,” added Larry. 

Here is Bianchi.” . 

I turned to see the aeronaut. He was envel- 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


317 


oped in a long overcoat, which extended down to 
his ankles. It had a cowl, which was drawn over 
his cap, so that he looked like a monk. He walked 
directly to the car and leaped in. At the same 
instant Cuore on the ground cut the single rope 
that held the balloon. A wild cheer from the 
crowd rent the air as it rose almost perpendicular¬ 
ly. Bianchi waved a couple of flags, and the 
multitude shouted again. I obtained a single 
glance at the cowled head of the aeronaut after 
he started. He seemed like a mysterious person¬ 
age to me, so sudden and so singular had been his 
coming, and so rapid his going. Larry was seated 
in the bottom of the car, and I did not see his face 
after the ascent commenced. In spite of all I had 
said, I could not but feel that the chances were 
altogether in favor of my friend’s coming back 
alive and well. 

I watched the balloon till it looked like a speck 
in the distance. It floated off to the westward, 
towards the Harz Mountains. In spite of myself 
I was nervous and uneasy about my friend. I 
could not adopt his theory that he was just as safe 
up in a balloon, a mile or two from the earth, as he 
was on the solid ground. The time hung heavily 


318 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


upon me till night, and then I could not sleep for 
thinking of Larry. I was sorry I had not been 
more decided with him; that I had not induced 
my party to leave Leipsic before the ascension. 

The morning papers contained no intelligence 
of the aeronauts. I was told by the porter, to 
whom I applied for information, that Cuore, the 
balloonist’s partner, had departed for Cassel, where 
he was to make arrangements for another ascen¬ 
sion at a fair, and where Bianchi was to convey 
the balloon after its descent. Our party were 
ready to continue the journey to England, and 
were only waiting the return of Larry. At dark 
he had not arrived, and I became very anxious 
about him. But the porter came to me with an 
evening paper, in which was a paragraph saying 
that the balloon had descended near Nordhausen, 
at the extremity of the Harz Mountains. 

“ When will he return? ” I asked. 

Not to-night. It is more as sixty miles, mit a 
railroad only from Halle,” replied the porter. 

Here he is! ” I actually shouted, as Larry en¬ 
tered the office, covered with mud from head to foot. 

Jawohl! ” exclaimed the porter. 

How are you, Phil?” said my friend, grasping 
my offered hand. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


319 


First rate; only I have worried my life out 
about you/’ I replied. “ What’s the matter ? ” 

He looked pale, and seemed to be exhausted. I 
was sure he was not satisfied with his journey in 
the air. 

“I’m tired, Phil; that’s all. I want some 
supper.” 

We went to our room, after ordering his sup¬ 
per, where he changed his clothes. But he was 
weary and languid, for him. 

“ Where did you land, Larry ? ” 

“ I haven’t the least idea. Don’t know the 
name of a single town through which I passed,” 
said he, with a faint smile. I couldn’t speak a 
word of the lingo, and no one spoke English.” 

“ But where was Bianchi ? ” ^ 

“Bianclii?” 

“ The balloonist.” 

“ Humph ! He wasn’t there. But let me have 
some supper before I say anything. Don’t ask me 
another question, Phil.” 

I saw that something unpleasant had occurred; 
but I waited until after he had taken his supper, 
when he declared that he felt better. 

“ Now, Phil, we will go up stairs, and I will tell 
you all about it,” said he. 


320 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


In the chamber he threw himself upon a lounge. 

Did you see the man who went up with me, 
Phil ? ” 

I did.’’ 

Did you know him? ” 

No. He did not show himself till the moment 
you started, and I could not see his face, which 
was nearly covered by the cowl of his coat.” 

Who do you think he was ? ” 

Bianchi, I supposed.” 

Not at all.” 

Who was he ? ” 

Cuore.” 

You don’t mean so.” 

“ The fellow we talked with here was Bianchi; 
and he is the man who usually makes the ascen¬ 
sions.” 

“ But 3mu don’t mean to say that your companion 
in the balloon was the Cuore we knew in Italy.” 

I do. I was sure I saw him in the garden, 
though you did not believe me. He was the very 
man. I did not see his face till we were half a 
mile above the earth. He stood with his back to¬ 
wards me, waving the flags. I did not feel quite 
at home in the basket, though, as I sat in the bot- 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


321 


tom of the car, I was not conscious of any motion. 
Then I looked over the side, and the view was so 
magnificent that I could not help shouting with 
rapture. It was the sublimest thing in the world. 
Phil, I advise you to go up in a balloon when you 
get a cliance ; but donT go up witfi such a fellow 
as Cuore.” 

“ I certainly shall not, if I can help it. How long 
was it before you recognized your companion ? ” 
When he had waved the flags a while, he threw 
back his cowl and turned round. I knew him at 
once, though he was very much altered in appear¬ 
ance. He was dressed better, and wore a longer 
beard. He looked at me, and, if ever a man was 
ugly, he was. 

^ Cuore ! ’ said I. 

' At your service,^ he replied. 

I told him that I supposed we did not meet by 
accident; but he made no reply, and did not seem 
to be ready for business. We floated over towns 
and villages, and were approaching the hills to the 
westward at sunset. The balloon began to drop, 
and Cuore threw out bags of sand till we rose 
again. I suggested that it was nearly dark, and 
that we had better make a landing. 

21 


522 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


‘ I purpose to stay up all night,’ said he. 

“ ^ All right,’ I replied. 

“ But, having used up all his ballast, the balloon 
dropped down into a lower atmosphere, and began 
to go to the eastward, in another current. 

‘‘ ‘ This will never do,’ said Cuore. ^ I want to 
go over the Harz Mountains, for we make 'an as¬ 
cension in Cassel. The balloon will rise no higher 
with both of us in the car.’ 

“ ‘ And you \vould like to throw me out,’ I sug¬ 
gested. 

“ ‘ No,’ he replied, ‘ I would not do such a thing.’ 

1 told him plainly that he was in the employ of 
Miles Grimsby; that he had dogged me from Lon¬ 
don, and that the present excursion was for my 
benefit. The balloon was now slowly nearing the 
earth, and to help it along, I gave the valve rope a 
pull, for I was in a hurry to have my dangerous 
companion where I could be. on equal terms with 
him. The moment I touched it, he clinched me by 
the throat, and attempted to throw me out of the 
car. I was desperate then, as any man would be 
in such a situation. He was not so strong as he 
supposed he was, for he had not entirely i*ecovered 
from his wounds. In the midst of the struggle, I 




I 




































































































































































THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


323 


heard him groan heavily. I don^t know, but I 
think that, in his violent exertions, he opened the 
old wound, for he fell back upon the ropes by 
which the basket was suspended. I pulled him 
down into the bottom of the car. He would have 
fallen out if I had not done so, and I did not wish 
to serve him as he intended to serve me. I would 
not have his death upon my conscience for all the 
revenues of Grimsby. He was not insensible, but 
he seemed to be in great pain. 

In the struggle my legs had become entangled 
in the valve rope, and the pressure upon it kept 
it open. The balloon descended steadily, and soon 
touched the ground upon the side of a hill. There 
was not a breath of air, and the instant the car 
reached ground I threw over the grapnel, and 
leaped out, intending to hold on to the basket. I 
knew nothing about ballooning, and I was too much 
excited to think. I supposed the grapnel would 
hold the thing; but the moment the balloon was 
relieved of my weight it shot up into the air again. 
I lost my hold upon the basket, for it went up with 
a jerk the instant my feet touched the earth. The 
grapnel rope was wound around the trunk of a 
tree, and ran out of the car, to which it did not 


324 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


appear to be fastened. Relieved of my weight, 
and of that of the grapnel and rope, the balloon 
rose, moving first to the eastward, and then, as its 
altitude increased, to the westward. 

“ Now, Phil, I didn’t mean to leave Cuore in 
that car. I hope I had enough of your Christian 
spirit about me to do what I could for him in his 
disabled condition, though he sought my life, and 
will again, if he recovers.” 

But what did you do, Larry ? ” 

I could not do anything for Cuore, and not 
much for myself. A dozen men, women, and chil¬ 
dren gathered around me, and looked at me with 
wonder and astonishment. Probably they had 
been watching the balloon, and hastened to the 
spot when they saw it descending. One of them 
spoke to me, but of course I couldn’t understand 
him. I spoke English to the group, but no one 
comprehended it. I showed some money, and 
said, ‘ Leipsic,’ a dozen times. I made all sorts 
of signs, and was finally conducted to a house. 
I continued to repeat ‘ Leif)sic ’ until the people 
comprehended what I wanted, and conveyed me 
in a cart to the nearest town. At the little hotel 
a man was brought to me who spoke a little 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


325 


English. I told him I had come in the balloon, 
and wished to go back to Leipsic as soon as pos¬ 
sible. I was told that a diligence would pass 
through the place in the middle of the night. I 
had some supper, and then tried to sleep; but I 
could not. My nerves were more shaken than 
ever before. At midnight I took the diligence, 
and came to a place where I took the train; and 
here I am, nearer used up than I ever was 
before.’^ 

“ ThaVs a very strange adventure,” I added. 

Strange ! I am beginning to lose my taste for 
adventure. I can’t help thinking how I felt when 
Cuore attempted to pitch me out of the balloon. 
The idea of dropping down half a mile, and fetch¬ 
ing up with a round turn on a rock, or even on 
the ground, was the most disagreeable thing that 
ever came over me. Moral. When you go up 
in a balloon, get introduced to your companion 
before you start.” 

What do you suppose has become of Cuore ? ” 

“1 haven’t the least idea; but I suppose the 
M:>alloon has come down before this time. I must 
go to bed, Phil, for I am used up.” 

I found my mother in the private parlor, and 


326 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


repeated the adventure of my friend to an inter¬ 
ested little audience. 

Larry was better the next day, and we pro¬ 
ceeded on our journey. 

I don’t understand how Cuore came in that 
balloon,” said I, as we rode along in the railway 
carriage. 

“ It is plain enough to me now, for T thought it 
all over while I was riding in that diligence. Cu¬ 
ore dogged me all the time, watching his chance 
to do something. He must have heard me say I 
wanted to go up in a balloon. Then he made a 
trade with Bianchi to go in his place.” 

But why did Bianchi call himself Cuore?” 

Probably to blind me, and to provoke an in¬ 
quiry in regard to the real Cuore, so that he could 
convince us there was no such Italian in Leipsic.” 

<<Yery likely. I hope you won’t go up in a 
balloon again.” 

I don’t know. I think it pays, if you know 
your companion.” 

We continued on our journey, but did not 
reach London until the end of a week. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


327 


CHAPTER XXiy. 

IN WHICH PHIL AND LARRY VISIT GRIMSBY HALL, AND 
RETURN TO AMERICA. 

ARRY had written to Sir Philip that our 



M J party would be in London at a certain time, 
and on our arrival he found a letter from the 
baronet, inviting us all to Grimsby Hall. We 
went after a da}^ in the great city. Larry and I 
had letters from the president of the Lowerville 
Bank, acknowledging full satisfaction for all that 
was due the bank. My friend’s letter, being the 
last one, assured him that the ‘‘honorable con¬ 
duct ” of the friends of Mr. Fennimore had placed 
his reputation above reproach. Though I was un¬ 
able to see how this could be, I was willing to ac¬ 
cept the fact. The directors were men of the 
world, it appeared afterwards, and losing no 
money by the cashier, they were willing and 
glad to acquit him of all evil intentions. They 


328 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


circulated the story that he was partially insane, 
aud never meant to rob the bank of a dollar. Ilis 
subsequent death, and the prompt settlement of 
all his accounts with the bank, appeared to con¬ 
firm the statement, and his conduct was all ex¬ 
plained away.’^ 

All this was decidedly wrong, for the explana¬ 
tions were all pure inventions; but so far as Mr. 
Fennimore was concerned, he bitterly repented 
of his crime, and made all the restitution to the 
bank in his power. He deserved to be forgiven, 
but not to be “whitewashed.” 

We went to Grimsby Hall. The family were in 
deep mourning for Miles, senior, so far as outward 
appearances were concerned, but there was no 
genuine grief. Miles the younger was at home, 
but he was silent, moody, and cross-grained. We 
were cordially welcomed by the baronet and 
Blanche, but by no one else ; and our party were 
not disposed to remain long. 

“ Miles, my boy, don’t be so stiff with your 
cousin,” said Sir Philip, as we sat in the library, 
on the evening of our arrival, after my mother and 
the Collingsbys had retired. 

“ Pm not stiff, sir,” replied he. 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


329 


Ton my life you are. I think you hate him.” 

“ Certainly not, sir,” protested Miles. 

It isn’t his fault that he is your cousin, and the 
son of your father’s older brother.” 

‘‘ I know it, sir, and I don’t blame him. I have 
tried to treat him well, though I was a little irri¬ 
tated when I first saw that he came between me 
and my expectations.” 

I don’t want to have any muss about it,” inter¬ 
posed Larry; ‘‘ but 1 don’t think he has tried very 
hard to treat me well.” 

For what took place in the railway carriage 
when we were going to London, I beg your par¬ 
don,” replied Miles, trying to look penitent. 

Apology cheerfully accepted,” added Larry. 

“What was that?” asked the baronet. “You 
never said anything to me about it.” 

“ No, I did not, grandfather, for I don’t want to 
be the author of a family row.” 

“ I am very much obliged to him for his forbear¬ 
ance,” replied Miles. “ I think he has no further 
cause of complaint.” 

“ Unfortunately, I have,”' said Larry ; and I saw 
that he was determined to expose the conduct of 
Miles. 


330 


■'BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ What have you been doing, Miles ? ” demanded 
the baronet, sternly. 

Nothing at all, grandfather. Except in the 
instance for which I have apologized, I have never 
spoken an unkind word to him.” 

“ That is very true. Miles ; but you have done 
worse than that. You have employed an Italian 
bravo to dog my steps, and take my life, and twice 
I have narrowly escaped death at his hands.” 

“ Ton my life ! ” exclaimed the baronet, spring¬ 
ing to his feet, his face red with anger. 

“ I really do not know what he means. Sir 
Philip,” replied Miles, with an assumed look of 
amazement. 

I was here three months in the summer, and 
did not mention the circumstance,” continued 
Larry; “ but I confess I don’t like to have a cut¬ 
throat on my track always. It isn’t pleasant to be 
obliged to be on the lookout for an assassin all the 
time.” 

‘‘I should say not,” added the baronet, decid¬ 
edly. Are you so bad as this. Miles ? ” 

You condemn me, grandfather, without' any 
proof. I haven’t the least idea what Lawrence 
means.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


331 


Do you know one Cuore, an Italian ? asked 
Larry. 

Never heard of such a person.” 

Wait a minute ; I will bring the papers, for I 
am prepared to prove all that I say,” said Larry, 
leaving the room; but he soon returned with a 
couple of letters in his hand. 

“ This is all a fiction. Sir Philip,” protested 
Miles. 

<‘We will see whether it is or not,” replied 
Larry. “ I have told you about our experience in 
the French army, and that Phil and I narrowly es¬ 
caped being shot as spies; but I didn’t tell you 
how we got into the scrape.” 

My friend detailed our relations with Cuore 
from the time we first met him in Paris, and 
showed how he had led us into a doubtful position, 
and then caused our arrest on the Ticino. 

“ All that may be, but I had nothing whatever 
to do with it,” said Miles, who had not yet been 
connected with the affair. 

‘‘We found upon the person of the Italian this 
letter, which contained a draft for money sent to 
him.” • 

The baronet took the letter, and carefully exam¬ 
ined it. 


332 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ No signature; but it looks like your writing, | 
Miles.” 

It is not my writing, grandfather, and I know 
nothing about it.”* . 

Then the general opened the mail-bag, in I 
which Cuore had put some letters. One was di¬ 
rected to Miles Grimsb3^” ’ 

Perhaps it was to my father,” said Miles, who 
now looked pale, and his lip quivered. 

Pshaw, Miles ! Your father had not mind 
enough to write a letter, or to do any business, 
within the last three montlis.” 

‘‘ Here is the letter, Sir Philip.” 

The baronet read it. There could be no doubt 
that it was addressed to Miles, and the contents 
fully confirmed all that Larry had declared. j 

“ Then, at Leipsic, I Ibund myself in a balloon 5 

car Avith this same Cuore, who attempted to throw i 

me out, and who, perhaps, would have succeeded I 

if the wound he had received in Italy had not | 

broken out afresh; ” and Larry detailed the event \ 

Avith thrilling poAA^er. i 

That’s enough! ” exclaimed the baronet. ■* 

Miles is as crazy as his father Avas. I have been j 

too indulgent! I have spoiled the boy. He uses 
my money to hire an assassin ! ” 




THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


333 


“ This is a ridiculous story, Sir Philip, trumped 
up to prejudice you against me,” protested Miles. 

There is not a word of truth in it. The story 
is silly. If the Italian attempted to take his life 
in the balloon, why didn’t he cause his arrest? 
He doesn’t even inquire what became of the man. 
There isn’t a word of truth in the story.” 

I would give ten years of my life if I could 
believe there was not,” said the baronet, sadly. 

“ I am rather sorry I said anything about the 
matter,” added Larry. 

“It is best that I should know the truth, bad 
as it is. I will investigate for myself. No more 
of my money shall go to pay a bravo.” 

Miles left the room, no longer able to confront 
his grandfather’s grief and anger. 

“ What are you going to do, Lawrence, my 
boy ? ” asked Sir Philip. 

“ I am willing to do whatever you may desire, 
sir.” 

“ Then go to America with your friend. It is 
better that you should be out of the way for a 
season. Return in the spring.” 

We talked till midnight; Sir Philip thought 
that Larry would be happier in the United States 


334 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


than he would be in England, though he was 
sorry to part with him ; but he hoped to “ bring 
Miles to his senses ” before spring. 

We remained at Grimsby Hall three days, 
during which my mother became very much 
attached to Blanche Fennimore. The poor girl 
was not happy in her new home. Miles and his 
mother disliked her on account of her relations 
to Larry, and her only friend in the house was 
Sir Philip, who was very kind to her. But she 
did not feel at home, and she made a confidante 
of my mother. She desired to return to America, 
and her wish came to the baronet. 

You will all leave me — will you ? ’’ said he 
to Larry. 

I do not wish to leave you. I am to go by 
your advice.’^ 

It is better for you to go, and I dare say for 
Blanche too, for I have to prepare the way for 
you. Go, and God bless you.” 

‘‘ But Blanche will stay, if you desire it.” 

I haven’t the heart to ask it. It is no home 
for a girl like her, while Miles is here. Go, both 
of you; and it will be different in the spring. 
Write me every week.” 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


335 


Sir Philip evidently intended to make some 
change in his household, to reform the evil spirit 
of Miles. He preferred to do this unobserved by 
Larry and Blanche. The baronet was very sad 
when we left him, and Miles kept out of the way. 
We went to Liverpool, and after a stormy passage, 
arrived at New York, where we were obliged to 
remain several days, until Mrs. Collingsby recov¬ 
ered from the effects of the voyage. My mother 
invited Blanche to go with us to Chicago, but her 
friends in the city insisted that she should pass 
the winter with them. Larry, therefore, was not 
disposed to go away farther with us, though he 
promised to visit me soon. 

We journeyed slowly to Chicago, and when we 
arrived I confess that my heart bounded with 
anxiety, as I thought of meeting the Collingsbys 
there. Joseph had written to them that my 
mother had acknowledged me as her son, and 
that he had no doubt of the fact; but I could not 
see how my grandfather and my uncle Richard 
would be able to retire from the position they 
had befoie taken in regard to me. They were 
of that sort of people who are determined to be 
consistent. But I wronged them in my thoughts. 


336 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


The first person I saw when I entered the house 
was my father. I was astonished to see him 
there, and more astonished when my grand¬ 
father and my uncle gave me a cordial recep¬ 
tion. My father and mother met in perfect 
reconciliation, and both wept in each other’s em¬ 
brace. 

“You were right, Philip,” said the elder Mr. 
Colli ngsby. You are my grandson beyond a 
peradventure. I am satisfied now.” 

“So am I, sir; and I think I could have.con¬ 
vinced you before, if you would have heard me,” 
I replied. 

“ It would not have done a particle of good to 
hear you. I should not have believed you if I 
had heard you. I believed it was all a trick on 
the part of your father; but he is a new man 
now, and I am sorry I wronged him.” 

1 could ask for no more, and my happiness was 
complete. For a week we talked over the past, 
and lived it over again, both in its joys and its 
sorrows. But my father’s business demanded his 
return to St. Louis, and my mother and myself 
went with him. A house had already been pro¬ 
vided, and we took immediate possession of it. 


THE STRUGGLES OP A SOLDIER. 


337 


For the first time in my life I felt at home. I 
was in the actual realization of the joys I had 
anticipated for years. I was under the same roof 
with my father and m\^ mother, reunited after a 
separation of fifteen years. 

On the evening of the day we entered our 
new home, m.y father read a chapter from the 
Bible, and in his prayer which followed, he ut¬ 
tered the thanksgivings to God that were in 
all our hearts. Morning and evening he read and 
prayed, and thus kept himself strong against the 
temptations that continually beset him. 

“ I did not believe you would ever reform, 
Edward,’’ said my mother, one evening after the 
family devotions. 

I did not believe that I ever should myself; 
but that good woman, Mrs. Greenough, of whom 
I have spoken to you, put me on the right track. 
I had no strength of myself, but God gave it 
to me when I asked for it. Without my Bible, 
and without my daily prayer, I am afraid I could 
not stand a single day. You don’t know what 
power it gives me to feel that God is my ever¬ 
present help. I still hanker for whiskey. It has 
seemed to me, sometimes, that I must drii^; and 
22 


338 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


I know that I glionld if God did not help me every¬ 
day and hour that I live.” 

My mother was deeply impressed by the words 
of my father.' She went to church with him the 
next Sunday, and attended the evening meetings. 
His influence soon led her to join him in the Up¬ 
ward and Onward pilgrimage upon which we now 
all journeyed together. I cannot tell how happy 
we were, for every hour seemed like a dream ot 
bliss to me. I need hardly say that T did not spend 
a day in St. Louis without calling upon the Grace- 
woods. Ella gave me a greeting which assured 
me that I had still a place in her heart. They 
came to our house, and my mother thanked them 
for all they had done for me. The two families 
were fast friends from the moment they met, and 
frequent were the visits from one house to the 
other. Mrs. Greenough was a valued friend of 
both. 

A week before Christmas I had a letter from 
Larry, promising to spend the holidays with me. 
He came, and our tongues flew from morning till 
night. 

‘‘ I had a letter from Sir Philip the other day,” 
said hev The old gentleman is taming Miles with 
a vengeance.” 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


339 


“ How taming him ? ’’ 

He stopped his money allowance, and keeps a 
shadow to watch him wherever he goes. But it 
will do no good.’’ 

If he stops his allowance he cannot employ any 
such fellow as Cuore to dog you.” 

He can raise all the money he wants. The 
brokers in London will discount his expectations. 
But never mind him. I have bought a yacht, 
Phil.” 

“ A yacht! ” 

One liundred and twenty tons. She was sold 
at auction, and I bought her at half her value.” 

How do you know she is a good vessel ? ” 

“ 1 got the old sailors to examine her, bored her 
timbers, and all that sort of thing. She is only 
two years old, sound as a nut, and took the first 
prize in half a dozen races. I shall go to England 
in her in the spring, and you must go with me.” 

I can’t go.” 

What’s the reason you can’t ? ” demanded he, 
excitedly. 

“ I can’t afford to spend any more of my time in 
that way. My father is not rich; has only his 
salary of three thousand a year,” I replied. 


340 


BIVOUAC AND BATTLE, OR 


“ But your mother’s family are rich.” 

Undoubtedly; but we have no claims upon 
them. I must go to work, and earn my own 
living.” 

What are you going to do? ” 

I don’t know ; but I suppose I shall be a clerk.” 

How much salary do you expect to get ? ” 

Eight hundred, or a thousand.” 

‘‘ Good ! I appoint you captain of the Blanche, 
at a salary of one thousand dollars a year.” 

Thank you, Larry; 3’ou are very kind.” 

“ No, I’m not; none of that.” 

“ I’m certainly very grateful — ” 

Dry up ! None of your gratitude.” 

I should certainly like the position better than 
anything else I can think of; but I’m afraid my 
father and mother will not consent to the long 
absence.” 

We will reason with them.” 

They consented, after a long argument, only to 
oblige my friend who had saved my life, and 
because I desired so much to go. Of my ex¬ 
perience in the Blanche I have yet to tell, for I 
sailed in-her from New York on the first of April. 
Larry spent a happy week with me, and I met him 


THE STRUGGLES OF A SOLDIER. 


341 


again on board of the Blanche about two weeks 
later. I devoted the rest of the winter to the 
study of navigation, maritime and naval laws, in 
order to fit myself for my new position. But 
whatever else I studied, I could not, in my father’s 
house, forget that the business of this world is not 
the chief end of existence. I still labored to make 
my course upward and onward, and endeavored to 
profit by all the experiences of life, and not least 
by those of Bivouac and Battle. 


1 


c 


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ELM ISLAND STORIES. 

Six vols. 16tno. Illustrated. Per vol., $1.25. 

1. Lion Ben of Elm Island. 

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it hibiting human nature in children, and teaching 
I' some very important practical lessons. 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 






“ jlaacinatins anh Engtrudibe.” 

THE PROVERB SERIES. 

Bv Mrs. M. E. Bradley and Miss 
Kate J, Neely. 

Six vols. Illust Per voL, $t. 

Birds of a Feather, 

Fine Feathers do Not make Fine 
Birds. 

Handsome is that Handsome does. 

A Wrong Confessed is half Re¬ 
dressed. 

Actions speak louder than Words. ’ 
OnQ Good Turn deserves another. 

“ Each volume is complete in itself, and illus¬ 
trates, with a story of most fkscinaling and in¬ 
structive interest, the proverb taken for its title. 
These are just the kind of books tliat we like to 
see in a family or Sunday-school library. They 
will be read by persons of all ages with deep 
interest, and afford instructive and entertaining 
conversation with the children.”—-iS. S- JoumaL 

LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 






























